


Don't Try to Wake Me in the Morning

by nearlypeaceful



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Trauma, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2019-08-27 17:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 37
Words: 131,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16706425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nearlypeaceful/pseuds/nearlypeaceful
Summary: "How can little ol' me talk you out of your end goal?" Lucy has a plan, meticulous and brutal. After she builds an intricate maze designed to take out walkers, her plans are foiled by Negan and his Saviors. In her, he sees an invaluable resource beautiful and deadly. In him, she has a savior of her own. But neither of them are prepared for the horrors to come... (Slow burn)





	1. Chapter 1

_AN: I do not own The Walking Dead, all characters and content not created by the author belongs to AMC and the respective owners of TWD. Please enjoy!_

**Chapter 1**

The maze had come together nicely, just a few finished touches were needed. The traps and chokepoints were set, and the central hub overlooking the entire operation was finally wired up. Over the course of several months, the abandoned strip mall parking lot had been painstakingly converted, with only a few minor setbacks. The biggest pain factor had been keeping the walkers away during construction – this had taken up the most time, constantly clearing the area every morning and evening. Not letting them build up was key – the more they were allowed to gather, the more they grew.

Lucy wasn't ready for them… yet. She wanted to see them burn, die again, turn into ash and blood and gore. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, a mental signal that it was time to get back to work. She stood on the outskirts of her death maze, eyes hardened by the living and the dead. She was tired, so tired. No time for sleep, no rest for the wicked. She gingerly made her way through the maze, eyeballing weak points, oiling hinges and checking gasoline levels. She checked the heights of the walkways to ensure taller walkers couldn't somehow climb up, and pulled and tugged to check their weight bearing. All systems checked out. This had given her purpose, toiling outside, researching in old dusty library books. Scavenging had been harder, but on her own food was a lot easier to handle.

 _On my own_ , her heart ached. She missed the sounds of children, laughing and shrieking. She even missed the whining that used to set her teeth on edge. No time for memories. She was only twenty-six, but felt twice that some days. After the months of hard labor and questionable nutrition, sometimes she felt like death herself.

Provisions were needed now, before the big show. She didn't know how long it took to gather a massive amount of walkers, and dying of thirst or hunger waiting around wasn't an option. Her body was already scrawny from not enough calories and too much hauling, hammering, drilling. She silently thanked her father for taking her to job sites and letting her help out on renovations. Are you alive out there somewhere, Dad? she thought with a pang in her stomach.

The inspection was complete, and she passed with flying colors. She would award herself by scavenging some nice hard liquor- not the hodgepodge of beers she had stashed away. Something smooth and strong. She climbed up to the central hub and grabbed her backpack, checking that her knife was secure and her pistol loaded in its holster. The holster chaffed a little, especially since she was wearing shorts due to the heat, so she had a green bandana wrapped around part of the strap. A gift, given by proud little faces. I'm so sorry. She absentmindedly rubbed the bandana with her thumb, reconstructing her mental walls against old memories and old regrets.

She used the walkway from the hub to an adjoining rooftop, a genius idea that made it so much easier to load up the hub without navigating through the maze each time. The building might have been intended to be a parking structure, back when those things mattered. She needed to check her traps, hopefully snagging a rabbit or two, and find some more essentials. She needed some more CDs, that was for sure. There was only so much Fleetwood Mac and "Top 20 Hits of the 80's" she could handle. Last time she checked the sound system, she had Toto's "Africa" stuck in her head for a week.

At the top of the hills nearby, she turned around to marvel at the monstrosity she made. She had seen so much death. Just a few more weeks and she would take out as many as she possibly could, then she could finally rest her weary bones. She was so tired.

/ / / / /

A few miles away, a group of men gathered outside an old armory, taking inventory of their loot. It had already been picked over several times over, leaving a mishmash of bullets and what Snake called "lady guns." Kevin, the sniveling bastard, had proven himself useful for once and found a back room of confiscated equipment that previous scavenger's crowbars hadn't managed to pry open. It was not immune, however, to a well-placed chain and a 300-plus horsepower truck.

A dark-haired man with a well-groomed beard was showing off some of the prizes to a bemused looking man in a leather jacket and a deadly looking baseball bat slung over his shoulder. "Shit, boss, we got here grenades, assault rifles, ammunition out the ass! No more pussy lady handguns, either. Even got some more .22 rounds at least!" He reached into a bag and pulled out a .44 Magnum. "Look at this Dirty Harry looking motherfucker, though! Ain't it a good haul, Negan?"

Negan took the gun and rolled it over in his hands, inspecting it carefully. He cracked a smile. "Snake, you are a treasure amongst men. Good work, boys! Shit like this just tickles my balls and makes Lucille happy!" He switched the bat, his ever present lady Lucille, to his other shoulder and dropped the Magnum into the bag. "Let's roll out, dickwads!" He didn't often go scavenging much, usually leaving it to his mean, but it sure got the blood pumping. He'd maybe have Dwight go get one of his wives as soon as they got back, if they weren't too busy being fucking annoying. Release some of this…excitable energy.

Kevin, a scrawny man with twitchy eyes, grabbed a bag and trudged up to the boss. "Hey…Negan? Uhh. So, I used to know this area around here- dealer used to live a few miles and sometimes we'd drive around, shoot the shit and get high. Anyways, so uh-"

"This story got an end to it, limp dick? I ain't got all day."

Kevin cringed at the nickname. Jesus, one time with a broad and too much whiskey and she blabs it all over Sanctuary. He considered who he was speaking to, though, and let it go. "YEAH! Sorry. So uh, there's a mall nearby, right? Only one for miles, pretty decent-sized, you know? Last I saw, it was pretty clear of walkers. It's pretty out of the way. Prob-probably not a great place for a mall now that I think about it." Negan's eyes were growing dark, clenching his jaw. Not a good sign. "Right, right. Get on with it. So, part of it was being renovated before- uh…just before. Yeah. Might be some useful shit in there. Copper, building supplies. I think there was a gun store too, or maybe one of those outdoorsy type stores. You know?"

Negan clapped his hand on the man's shoulder. Kevin spouted nonsense half the time (really, more than half the time), and made himself so nervous he looked like a twitching Chihuahua, but on a rare occasion he was incredibly useful. He had proven himself today, and Negan decided it was time to throw the dog a bone, bolster his confidence a little. "Fuck me, that's the most useful thing I think you've ever said, limp dick!" He spoke to a few of the men, deciding drivers for the trucks, then strolled over to the pick-up and hopped in, gesturing to Kevin. "How's about we have a nice little ride, Kevin," he said, emphasizing the usage of his real name. Make him feel good, it builds the loyalty. No sense in scaring the guy, he already practically shit himself every day from nerves. Kevin chuckled nervously, eyeing the bat wrapped in barbed wire sitting next to Negan.

"Would ya mind buckling her in, Kev? I can't reach it from the driver's seat." Negan said, starting up the engine. "Gotta protect my lady, and all that."

"Oh! Sure, definitely. Yeah." Kevin made to reach for the middle seat buckle, wondering how he would actually secure a baseball bat in a seatbelt.

Negan laughed and swatted his hand away. "I'm just fuckin' with you man! She's a baseball bat! She don't need to be buckled the fuck in!"

Kevin chuckled again nervously. This was the first time he had ever been alone with Negan, without the guys, and he didn't know what to do or where to look. He was getting increasingly worried about the nervous sweat accumulating on his back and ass. He really didn't want to sweat through to the fabric beneath and have some new terrible nickname. Negan didn't seem phased by the clear discomfort of his passenger, in fact, he reveled in making people uncomfortable. Comfort bred complacency, complacency bred mistakes. Mistakes kill, especially in this world.

"You wanna listen to some fuckin' Chuck Berry? Man, that is some fuckin' MUSIC. Oh-riginal rock n' roll. You like Chuck Berry, limp dick?" Negan said, putting in a CD. He didn't bother for an answer.

Kevin had never heard of Chuck Berry, but Negan's enthusiasm made him inclined to agree. "Sure, yeah, man. Chuck Berry's the shit." Negan smiled in agreement and drummed along to the music as they rode along, Kevin occasionally stammering out a direction.

A few minutes later, the caravan made their way to a convenience store on small hill, overlooking the mall. They all got out and stood in silence, a dozen men rendered mute.

In the parking lot of the semi-constructed section of a mall, was a gigantic manmade structure. Pieces of sheet metal, vehicles parts, and wooden boards formed a bizarre, schizophrenic-looking maze. They could see walls weaving in and out of each other, accompanied by walkways with railings strategically placed around the tops of the walls. Two imposing gates made of a dark, rusted looking metal were situated on either end of the maze.

Kevin blinked and wondered what the hell they were looking at. Finally, Negan broke the silence.

"What in the everloving fuck is that?"

Al, one of the older men in the outfit, was squinting through binoculars, scoping out the monstrosity of twisted metal, barbed wire. "One sign says 'Welcome to the Thunderdome, Bitches' while the other one says 'Come on in and go fuck yourselves,' I think." Negan chuckled while Al continued to scan. "No walkers though that I can see, boss. Can't see anyone, in fact. Whaddya think, some sort of looney?"

Negan squinted into the sun, considering the unexpected twist. "Well, I can't say I don't want to fuckin' meet the crazy son of a bitch that built this! Sheeeeeyit! It looks cool as fuck!" He paced back and forth, swinging Lucille while he took in the bizarre metal structure.

After a moment, he spoke. "Kevin and Snake, you two stay here and scout this place out." The chosen two nodded, trying not to look disappointed at another night out on the road, probably involving an unstable person. "Report anything fuckin' weird or fucked up on the walkie." He hesitated.  
"Scratch that, just report ANYTHING back. Any movement, any motherfucker that wanders in. We'll take this haul back to Sanctuary." He pointed Lucille at Kevin. "DO NOT FUCK THIS UP. Whoever made that might be fuckin' dead, it might be a goddamn trap, who the fuck knows. But color me the fuck intrigued." Kevin gulped. With that, the left-behinders grabbed some rations as the rest of the men loaded up.

Negan tossed the keys to the pick-up truck at Kevin, who immediately panicked and let the keys smack him in the face. Negan rolled his eyes. "We'll leave you geniuses a truck in case shit gets fucked up."

Snake nodded and shoved Kevin towards the convenience store. "C'mon Kev, there's gotta be rooftop access inside."

Kevin muttered agreement, then turned to watch their crew disappear over the hill. This was going to get weird, he just knew it.

/ / / / /

**AN: Thanks for reading! This is my first fanfiction story, so I would appreciate any feedback! I hope you enjoy the story- feel free to leave a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next morning, Lucy struck gold: a farmhouse, unscathed by scavenging, hidden back from a gravel road by a half mile. No other houses were nearby, the isolation had protected it from hungry eyes. It was an unexpected find when scouting for new trapping areas, the chimney only visible when she had climbed up a tree to get a better view of the area. The house was in fairly good shape, but had a slight sag to it, as if it was sighing out of relief.

She scouted around the outside, checking all possible points of entry. No signs of broken glass or boards- a good sign. The detached garage also appeared untouched, a rusty padlock still secured on a dry-rotted old door. She banged it carefully, enough to make noise but the damn thing looked like it would splinter at the slightest touch. The eerie quiet of the area seemed to amplify the noise, which made her nervous. She crouched with her knife ready, scanning the area and peeking around corners. Listening and waiting, waiting and listening. Silence…excellent.

A few moments after knocking on the door of the main house, Lucy heard a low gurgling.

_Shit, I knew it was too good to be true._

She peeked through the porch window and spied a single walker shuffling towards the front door. It had been an old woman from the looks of the filthy, floral nightgown. The walker clawed weakly at the front door as she waited, but no others came. From the look of it, one strong breeze could have bested the old walker, the threat level still minimal. She tried the door handle and almost laughed- unlocked! She immediately kicked the door open, knocking the walker onto it's back. It was just sinew and bones with rotted paper-thin skin, so fragile that despite snarling and snapping, the walker could barely stand up. Lucy's knife slid easily into its head. Easy peasy.

She crouched in the doorway, listening for signs of more walkers. Her breathing was the only noise reverberating throughout the house. This was how she survived: stop, wait, listen. Repeat. Move slowly and carefully, take no risks unless absolutely unavoidable. She scanned the house: first opening all doors and searching each room to ensure no surprise walkers were stuck in a closet, or hidden in the basement.

Lessons learned from the scavenging life: check behind all doors. She had once found a walker bound up in an outwardly innocuous BDSM sex closet one time, sincerely hoping the departed had been both consenting and living at the time of containment. Being raised by a single, traditional father meant that embarrassing subjects were mainly broached via mysteriously appearing books in her bedroom about her growing body and how babies were made. Despite some more robust knowledge in her college sex ed classes (and life experiences) she returned from that sex closet trip red-faced, unable to explain to the others what had happened. It probably would make for a funny story now, if she had anyone else to share it with.

_The others._  She missed them so much. They were all dead by now, able only to haunt her memories.  _You failed them,_ whispered that voice inside her head,  _you failed them all._

"I know," she whispered to the empty house. That voice was growing louder every day. It was parasitic, feeding on loneliness and guilt.

After she was satisfied the house was clear, she began to rifle through room by room, making a pile by the front door of useful items. She found medicine, but had little need of it with her future plans. After rolling one of the bottles back and forth between her hands, she stuck them in a duffle bag she found.  _Just in case,_ she thought. In any case, someone might find them on her later.

The house was tempting. Besides the dead walker downstairs, and some mummified food in the kitchen, it was so ordinary looking. She passed through the sole bathroom one more time and tested the faucets. Rust-colored water sputtered out, but gradually cleared up.  _On a well, thank god._ She stood over the sink for a minute, looking at the faint outline of herself in the dusty mirror. She wiped it off with a towel and looked at herself.

_My god, I look so…_

Tired? Exhausted? Hollow? A thousand words could fit snugly into that thought. If she was going to do this, if she was going to die soon, she wanted to look as good as possible under the circumstances. Make it a special occasion. Towels were located and smelly soaps lined up along the bath. In the old farmhouse, there was only one claw-footed porcelain tub in the bedroom upstairs.  _What's the point if I'm going to just get back into filthy clothes?_  Lucy wrinkled her nose.

An antique washer was jammed into the kitchen. She stripped down, ignoring the discomfort of being naked in an unfamiliar location (a familiar, yet still uncomfortable experience every time) and jammed her clothes in the washer. It shuddered for a few moments, and made some loud protests that indicated it was working.

The bath itself was less than ideal, shivering in cold water with wet hair sticking to her shoulders. It was the first real bath she'd been able to take though, taking to jumping in rivers or quick wipe-downs when nature's baths were not available. Sitting in the tepid water, she listened to the washing machine struggling downstairs, the  _drip drip_  of the faucet, her own heartbeat.

"Am I doing the right thing?" she whispered to herself.

_Yes. You must do this. You have been preparing for months, you cannot back out now. We cannot back out now._

Her heart sunk. The bathwater seemed freezing now, trapping her inside a porcelain tomb. She pulled the drain and jumped out, drying herself off quickly. The washer had finished so she hung her clothes out to dry in the hot summer sun, now wrapped in a nearly hideous robe that had been hanging on the back of the bedroom door.

Lucy worked through the rest of the house, her knife tucked into the belt of the robe.  _Just in case._ One of the bedrooms was plastered in posters of athletes and sultry women in bikinis.  _Bingo,_ she thought as she spied a rack of CDs. Tons of good music: Bowie, The Smiths, Queen, the works.  _Perfect music for a final blowout,_ she thought. She carefully wrapped the CDs in some spare towels and into the bags they went.

The kitchen pantry had almost-but-not-quite expired cans of food, most of which looked absolutely tasty after the sustenance-only regiment she'd been surviving on. The best was saved for last: the liquor cabinet yielded a boon of alcohol. Mainly whiskey and bourbon, which she greeted with a cheer and a kiss to the bottle.  _Grandma likes to party,_ she chuckled to herself. After passing through the rest of the house, she grabbed some god-awful clothes to make rags for the Molotovs later.

_Speaking of rags,_ she thought, dashing outside to get her now crisply dry clothes.

She went outside to the garage to see if there was something of use that she could use to haul her loot. When she flipped on the light, she gasped.  _What the hell was this lady into?_

Lined on the walls were bear traps, meat hooks, and long metal strips that looked suspiciously like the spiked things that cops threw out in car chases. Multiple police scanners were strewn about, some in various states of assembly. A small back room had what looked like some sort of moonshine still, coated in a layer of dust and silt. She spied a rickety cart in the corner near the entrance, full of cobwebs and in need of a good spray of WD-40, but usable. She located some grease to remedy a squeaky wheel, then hauled everything that possibly looked like it could cause damage.

She gathered all her supplies and surveyed her loot. She smiled.  _It's gonna be a helluva party._

In the distance, a pair of binoculars flashed in the sunlight, curiously watching. And waiting.

/ / / / /

A handful of sweaty, overtired men wandered out from a door of the converted abandoned factory, ready to help unload the supply truck. Negan's supply run caravan had been delayed overnight by an overturned tree in the road, which had made him extra ornery. A tall, skinny blonde man with burn scars on half of his face walked towards the group, shouldering his rifle. Negan hopped out of the truck with a cocky smile and sauntered over.

"Dwighty-boy! How is my fuckin' _kingdom_?" He clapped his big hand on Dwight's slender shoulder, causing him to jolt a bit from the impact. He muttered into Dwight's ear, "I've been stuck all fuckin' night listening to Limp Dick and the Dick Brigade try to out-dick each other, so I am not a ray of fuckin' sunshine, truth be told."

Dwight grunted non-committedly in response, his eyes unsmiling. "Uh, got it. Sanctuary's good. Your… wives aren't though. I had to pull Frankie off Amber. Something about using up all the hot water. Or maybe she's  _in_  hot water. Dunno." He sighed, and rubbed his jaw, still a little sore from Frankie's elbow. "Amber's pissed and has a black eye, Frankie possibly broke her pinky. Tanya was trying to break them up and got banged up in the process. Tensions are…high. Sherry's pissed too, I think just 'cause everyone else is," he said carefully.

"Oh, Jesus fuckin' Christ," Negan said, rubbing his eyes.  _I'm getting too old for this shit_. "Unlimited access to whatever shit they fuckin' want, with ONE fucking rule, and they are having catfights over goddamn water? _"_  Dwight shrugged.

He'd never admit it to the men, but his multiple marriages were slowly burning into a shitstorm of hellfire. Amber was in boiling hot fucking water for breaking that  _one fucking rule_  by cheating on Negan with her old boyfriend. Despite his punishment (involving a hot iron and the boyfriend's face), Negan was having a  _little_ trouble moving past it. Frankie and Tanya had lately been looking like Negan shit in their morning cereal, growing more and more stone-faced and tight-lipped as days wore on.

The past few weeks he had been avoiding his wives privately while publicly still maintaining face. The wives fought more and more over stupid fucking shit, especially time with him. And not a  _good time_. It started off flirtatious and sugar-sweet, devolving into nagging him, or requests for stupid-ass shit from supply runs. Sanctuary residents were always in need of food, building materials, medicine, books, the list goes fucking on. Useful shit. Not goddamn texturizing hair spray.

_What the shit was that saying about idle fuckin' hands?_ Negan thought.

Despite bragging otherwise, he had only slept with Sherry in the past week since she knew how to keep her goddamn mouth shut and get the fucking (heh) job done. Even then, her eyes were dead and unfeeling when they looked at him. That used to amuse him, once, but now it was just getting fucking annoying. They all looked miserable, there was no spark, no fire for him to play with anymore. He was hard-pressed to admit he made a mistake, but perhaps he needed to consider… _restructuring._ If he booted them all out, would it be viewed as strength or weakness? He needed to frame it carefully.

Dwight coughed, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Negan snapped back to the present moment. "Christ. I'm not in the fuckin' mood for this. Listen – I put Snake and Kevin on a fuckin' outpost about 40 miles or so out from here. If they call and report anything of use, come and get me.  _Fuckin' immediately._ You hear?"

Dwight nodded. "And your wives? They were asking what time you'd be home…"

Negan groaned. "Tell 'em I'm here and to leave me the fuck alone… unless one of them can keep her goddamn mouth shut-" He smirked, and raised an eyebrow. "-or open, depending on the situation…then she's welcome to."

He paused for a moment. "Except Amber. She's still in the fuckin' doghouse. Send 'em up some nice... _ish_ … booze and tell them I said to make the fuck up and stop fuckin' fighting. Unless they're greased up in their panties and I'm in the goddamn room." Satisfied, he turned away, twirling Lucille and whistling.

Once he got to his rooms, away from prying eyes, he gently set Lucille down in her armchair and slumped down at his desk, no more wind in his sails. The medium-sized office had a massive executive-type desk, a little sitting area and a bar that was always kept stocked with the best liquor found on supply runs. A set of double doors led to his bedroom and bathroom, probably coated in fine layer of dust by now. He had taken to sleeping on the sofa in the office more and more, the bedroom seemed to mock him most days. Not like he could sleep much, anyways.

_It's fuckin' lonely at the top_ , he thought. Lucille agreed silently from her chair. "Don't fuckin' tell anyone, will you, darlin'?" he whispered in a low growl. He missed that  _companionship_  that he once had, fucked up countless times, and then lost forever. That person that just understands your shit, and vice fucking versa.

He sighed heavily and pulled a cigarette case out of his desk filled with hand-rolled cloves. He wasn't a smoker really, and didn't condone it in his people, but every so often the mood called for some brooding in the dark while smoking.  _Fuck, me, what a week._ Weird ass mazes popping up, getting stuck in the fucking caravan overnight in a truck full of man stink and farts, fighting wives?  _I'm too fuckin' tired for this shit._ He was exhausted, hadn't slept well in weeks. He'd never been much of a sleeper, able to function well on a few hard hours of sleep, but even now that was getting hard to catch.  _No rest for the wicked_. After a moment or two, he stubbed out the barely-smoked cigarette. He just wanted to shower, drink, get a blowjob, then crash.

He knew it sounded too good to be true.

After a good soak and some fresh clothes, he was working his way down the list- pouring his second glass of a delightful scotch, the Rolling Stones jamming in the background on a gorgeous cherrywood record player Skinny Joey had found awhile back. Swaying to the music, he wondered which bitch-faced wife would saunter in, asking for some designer bullshit with his dick in her mouth.

A knock at the door.  _Amber?_ He thought, betting a drink on it. Knowing she was in the doghouse, she had been going above and beyond to get time with him, but spending most of it looking on the brink of crying. It was a fucking boner killer.

The knock persisted, louder this time.

"Yeah?" Negan grunted.

"It's Dwight. Can I come in?" Negan felt a wave of relief.  _Damn, lost my own fuckin' bet,_ Negan thought, taking a big swig. The scotch warmed his blood a little and quelled the gathering irritations that were snapping at his heels.

"Well sure, Dwighty-boy." Dwight walked in, a puzzled look on his face and a crumpled paper in his hand.

Negan feigned shock. "Excuse the fuck out of me with all these manners you got all of a fuckin' sudden, what with the door-knocking and shit."

Dwight shifted his weight but said nothing.

"Care to elaborate on the purpose of your visit, or are we just standing in fuckin' silence, staring at each other like two dickwads having a shit?"

Dwight cleared his throat. "It's Kevin. About that place they are staking out."

Negan rolled his eyes and poured a few more fingers of scotch. "Why the fuck didn't you start with that when you walk in?" He grabbed a glass, tinkling the ice cubes in the air suggestively. "Care to join?" Before Dwight could answer, he poured a glass and handed it to Dwight. "What'd ol' Limp Dick have to say about our freaky-deaky mall shit?"

Dwight took a sip, and nodded appreciably. "Thanks. They spotted someone at that- maze thing? This morning. A woman. She's been loading stuff into it, I guess, supplies and the like."

"A  _woman_?" Negan let the words roll around, tasting them.  _This shit just got more interesting_. It hadn't crossed his mind that a woman was behind it. Meaning no offense to the females, he had just been picturing a twitchy, nervous guy that hadn't bathed in years who talked about aliens. Basically Kevin, but dirtier. And crazier, if that was even possible.

"She with others, or alone?" he asked, scratching his salt-and-pepper beard.

"Alone. Well, she  _arrived_ alone and has been setting up more crazy shit since she got there. Snake swears he saw her haul out fucking  _bear traps_." Dwight glanced down at the scribbled paper clutched in his hand. "She took out a few walkers gathering around and put up a tent in the middle part? One of those pop-up tents for like barbeques and shit? Kev said it the middle kinda looks kind of like a…" He glanced down again, embarrassed. "Like a  _command center_?"

Negan sloshed scotch in his mouth, weighing this new information. It wasn't often he was rendered speechless, but luckily it was just Dwight here. "What the hell kind of Star fuckin' Trek bullshit is he talking about?"

Dwight shrugged. "Dunno. You know Kev, it's hard to get the fucking point out. He said there's levers and buttons, all kinds of electrical wiring and lights strung up. There's some generators too, I guess. And get this- he said she's been wiring up  _speakers._  Big ol' fuckers like for a concert? She was testing them for a few minutes. They work. Nearly blasted out his eardrum with feedback, Kev says."

Negan laughed, the hardest he had in awhile. "Woo boy! What in the actual shit is going on out there?"

"Kev said she didn't  _look_  crazy. Looks alright, no tin foil hats. I believe he used the words 'wicked hot' at one point."

Negan raised his drink to Dwight, who half-heartedly made the gesture back. "Kev is too far away and too fuckin' pussy hungry to be a good judge of that, but let's drink to hot, crazy bitches anyway!"

Dwight hesitated for a moment but drank, Negan draining his glass and slamming it down with satisfaction. The alcohol was barely registering a buzz, but it had finally relaxed him a bit. His brain was swimming with Dwight's news, but he desperately needed to sleep.

He turned back to Dwight. "Alright, tell them to keep fuckin' watch and report if anyone else shows up. I'm going to get some goddamn shuteye. Wake me in a few hours and we'll head the fuck back out there. You ARE comin' with, I am NOT going to be stuck with Limp Dick tryin' to not piss himself for who knows how fuckin' long. Get the truck ready."

Dwight nodded. "Yes, sir." He turned and left the room, clicking the door shut behind him.

Negan chuckled as he hauled his ass to bed, barely finishing his thought before passing out.  _What. The Fuck_

_/ / / / /_

**AN: Please feel free to leave a review on your thoughts so far, and thanks to those that have already! My goal is to update the story on a weekly basis, but I will post the first 3 chapters a little closer together so stay tuned! For anyone curious, the title comes from a beautiful song, "Asleep" by The Smiths.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The hub was nearly ready, all systems go. Just a few more boxes needed to be hauled in, then weeks ( _months?_ ) of hard work would finally pay off.

Lucy was glad she had secured a pop-up tent to protect her and the equipment from the harsh summer sun. Standing for hours in the sun on an asphalt parking lot, in a maze of hot metal reflecting heat all over the goddamn place was perhaps not going to be the pinnacle of comfort. At first, she had thought little about details that would make things a little more pleasant. But if it was going to be several days, or even weeks, to build up a big herd, she might as well have a few creature comforts. It would make it easier not to bail out.

 _Don't you dare bail on this, you coward,_ said that inner voice, so angry, so full of rage.

"I won't. I want to die," she said out loud. It sounded odd coming from her, like a stranger's voice. But she did want to die. Life felt…pointless now.  _Thirty-seven lost. Thirty-seven dead._

"You are the future, you are strong," she used to tell them, giving great big hugs and kissing their heads. "You all will survive long after I'm gone."

_You lied to them. They weren't strong. They didn't survive._

Tears welled in her eyes. "I didn't know. At least I  _tried._ "

No one else had even tried. They left her after the collapse, worries of their own families clouding their eyes. They left her with them, alone, to survive. To die. She wondered if the others that left early were alive somewhere, laughing in their prosperity. Part of her hoped they were all dead, a pang of guilt swirling into the emotions battling in her head.

Lucy picked up a hammer and slammed it down on a nearby piece of scrap metal, screaming in rage and hammering over and over and over again, until her arms screamed for relief…until she felt in control again. She threw the hammer down with a clatter and wiped away her tears, gasping for breath. Big, deep breaths in, slow breaths out. Her heartrate slowed, the inner rage satisfied for now at the outburst.

 _Back to business, no time for wallowing_ , she thought.

A pile of stuff scavenged from earlier that day was ready for loading into the hub, waiting on a nearby rooftop. She used a rickety pulley system to lift them up from the ground.

The first thing she had built was a sturdy walkway extension to the nearby rooftop to the hub. The walkway made resupplying much easier than constantly navigating through the traps, the fear of accidental dismemberment lurking constantly. Most of the walkways she had built using semi-trucks and abandoned buses for support, but the hub and roof were higher than the walkways, so a little improvisation was needed. Ramps were added to reach the roofs, so the main walkway was a semi-awkward "U" shape. These were the biggest pain to make, and she had consulted numerous books and endured rigorous stress-testing to ensure their capacity.

Her plan wouldn't work if she broke her neck before it even started.

The hub had already been in the parking lot, some sort of unfinished concrete signage, which she had expanded on to make more room. At first, before the grand plan had popped into her head, she had just wanted to make it a little nest up there and have a bird's eye view of the area. But after a few days of trying, it felt so exposed.

Was the biggest threat people or walkers? She hadn't seen people in months, wasn't even entirely sure anyone was still left alive. Not that she had been looking. It felt too risky to live there permanently, too easy to get trapped up there if made into a home.

The risk of making the maze however, didn't seem to factor in. There was a vague part of her brain that realized the irrationality of her plan. It was stuck in quicksand, struggling to free itself, but years of trauma and the never-ending stress of survival living dragged that logic further and further down. It was drowning.

Everything Lucy could possibly think of in the maze had been tested at least twice, the gates more times than she could count, generators full, supplies organized. She even found some of those crazy multi-colored dance lights in the back of an electronics store. Electrical work had proven tricky, those kinds of books were harder to come by, but she had done the best with what was available, and had a good shock or two as a lesson in the mix. One time she had been knocked out for a few hours, woken up with a hellish headache and the fence rattling from snarling walkers.

All she had to do now was pull the plug. Or turn it on, in this case.

_Tonight's the night._

She looked around at the maze, constructed of sheet metal, wire fence, cinderblocks, vehicles of all shapes and sizes as supports and blockades. Whatever she could get her hands on and put up herself, she did. They were reinforced, then reinforced again, just to be sure. There was equipment galore in the construction areas, although smaller items like nails and screws had been scavenged away. Those had been the biggest pain to find.

Before, she had helped build decks, houses, even part of a school ( _Oh god…I'm so sorry_ ), but this was her greatest project. Looking out over the structure, she thought about all the blood, sweat, and tears she put into this. She even had  _fun_  sometimes, especially during the planning process.

Instead of feeling proud and excited, all she felt was nausea. She hadn't anticipated feeling sick, but here she was, ready to go with her meticulous plan, so carefully planned to the last detail. Now she was about to hurl over the side of the hub. Did most people feel this way, looking at their magnum opus?

All she could think of now, sitting in the hub overlooking her maze, were all the little faces. All gone. After they were gone, it was rough voices, rough hands, touching her everywhere. Feeling helpless. Vulnerable. Sadness, but something even deeper than sadness…despair. Everyone was gone. Everyone she had loved, everyone she had known. She was alone in the world, in this shitty world where the dead come back to life and tear you to shreds.  _As if humanity needed that, we were doing a pretty good job already at destroying ourselves,_ she thought.

After she had lost the thirty-seven, after she had killed those rough hands that violated her, she had run into a few small communities, watching them from a distance but never making contact. She'd gone back occasionally to check on them, eventually finding only broken fences and roaming walkers. All communities collapsed eventually, it seemed. It wasn't worth it to lose anyone else. And now here she was, in the middle of a psychotic maze of destruction and mayhem, crafted by one very determined, very empty woman.

The idea of the maze appeared when she had sat quietly in a tree, waiting for a large herd of walkers to pass by. The voice, a dark, hateful voice, had started talking to her shortly before being treed, but being trapped for hours in silence seemed to exacerbate it. Perched on a large branch, revolver to her head, having conversations with herself. She had been alone for so long.

_Your life is empty. You have nothing. You are just…existing._

"Things might get better…maybe we will find somewhere…somewhere that feels like home."

_There is no home. There is no somewhere. You will always be running. Everyone will die. They always do._

"But…I don't want to die."

_Why not? What do you possibly have to live for?"_

"I can…I can still kill them. I've killed nearly every single one that I've come across. I may have helped others not get attacked. Maybe that is my purpose, to kill them on my own for other groups to survive."

_You have no purpose. Your purpose died when the last three were murdered. Because of you._

That's when she had the Big Finale idea. She'd take out a bunch of them, then once she was satisfied that enough were gone, take herself out. Then both of her would be happy.

A low growling caught her attention. Her rage-hammering from earlier had drawn out a handful of walkers, in the far reaches of fencing that cordoned off the construction area, protecting the maze. This time, she wouldn't slink up and stab them. Let them moan and groan and rattle the fence.

_Get ready for the show, you fuckers._

Lucy took out a camping chair she had stowed away and collapsed into it. Now all she had to do was wait, it was too early in the day to do much else. She didn't want to start blasting music yet, that was for nighttime when she could get the lights going. Maybe she'd even set off the few fireworks she found.

That made her smile.  _Fireworks_. She thought of hot dogs and picnic blankets, snuggling up warm and cozy to watch beautiful colors in the sky. She wouldn't mind dying to fireworks.

It was still hours until dusk, and there were only a handful of walkers at the fence. What if her constant clearing of them had thinned out the area too much? What if there wasn't going to be enough left to really go out with a bang? She worried the inside of her cheek with her tongue, contemplating what to do.

_Maybe it's time to make some noise._

Rummaging through a previously assembled bag of tricks, she pulled out an air horn and a megaphone. She popped the tab of a nearly-cold beer and sipped it slowly, considering her options. The beer itself was a mediocre brand, usually the last cans left floating in water at parties, but today it tasted amazing. A megaphone would be fun, but her voice would be worn out before they'd even get started.

She decided on the air horn. A blasted eardrum was probably going to be uncomfortable, so she popped in a pair of earplugs and began pacing the walkways, blasting the air horn and swigging beer.

"COME ONE, COME ALL! GATHER ROUND, MOTHERFUCKERS, SHOW STARTS TONIGHT!" she hollered, blasting the horn for emphasis. The extra noise seemed to rile up the walkers, who paced along the fence following her as she wandered the walkways.

It was actually a lot of fun, not worrying about being loud anymore. She had already made so much noise constructing the damn thing she could only work for short chunks at a time, then walk the perimeter to take out walkers, work, walkers, work, walkers, work, walkers. Now it was just noise and beer, with her shouting some choice swear works and flipping off the walkers. She bent over a few times, shaking her butt at them and blowing raspberries, flipping them off. Juvenile teasing just seemed to add to the fun, to the release.

They destroyed her life and everyone else's, she might as well destroy them.

/ / / / /

_BOOM BOOM BOOM._

"Fuck-fucking-fuck-shit FUCK." Negan had been balls-deep in a delicious dream where he was being hand-fed a juicy burger by a juicy broad. You just couldn't get good ground beef these days, that beautiful sizzling fat marbled into the meat like a lover's embrace.

_BOOM BOOM BOOM._

_The fucking door_. At least he'd gotten some sleep. He groaned, readjusted himself and rubbed his eyes. "Dwight, that better be you, goddammit."

This time, he opened the door and came in without asking permission. "Truck's ready, Negan. I got word from Kevin. The chick's still alone."

"Fuckin' perfect," Negan grumbled. He pulled on gray jeans and reached for his jacket, trying to shake the surliness out and draw out his charm. All he could think about now was fucking and burgers. He located his signature red bandana balled up on the floor.

Dwight leaned against the wall, fiddling with his holster. "And uh…this is fucking weird, boss. She's walking around on top of the maze thing, drinking beer and blasting an air horn. Yelling shit at the walkers outside. There's more gathering from all the racket. Kev thinks the maze is for them, maybe. Said maybe they got her boyfriend or kid or something and she snapped." Dwight shrugged.

Negan laughed hard, probably the best laugh he'd had in awhile. "No fuckin' shit, maybe the goddamn airhorn and hollering at them clued him in?"  _I gotta meet this crazy bitch_.

He grabbed Lucille and gave her a quick once-over, making sure her teeth sparkled in the light. "This is too fuckin' good to be true," he said, chuckling.

Less than an hour later, he was sitting on top of a convenience store with Dwight, Kevin, and Snake. More guys were on standby a few miles out in case back-up was needed, but Negan wanted to keep low numbers up front.

Negan watched the scene unfold through binoculars. Kevin hadn't lied, the chick was smoking hot. Long legs, good body, and he thought maybe her face looked pretty good if you squinted enough. Hard to tell this far out, though. She seemed absolutely carefree, a rare sight these days, blasting that damn airhorn and throwing empty beer cans at the fence. She'd sometimes turn around, bend over and wiggle her ass at the walkers and suggesting they "come get a piece." Negan had no complaints so far.

_Oh, I will come get a piece, babydoll._

Occasionally he could pick up some choice words, mainly about shoving things up walker's asses, or telling them to go fuck themselves. At some point he heard the "Pina Colada" sung until it trailed off, the rest of the words forgotten. She hadn't seemed noticed the not-very-inconspicuous figures on the rooftop some distance away.

She was wearing a tight white wifebeater (hot), steel-toed combat boots (hotter), and short-shorts with a holster strapped on her leg (hottest), causing a familiar stirring in his groin. Negan wondered what on earth had driven her there, how the fuck she made that maze ( _by herself_?)…so many questions.

"I think she wants to die there, man." Snake said simply. "No one would do that and expect to get out, if she wants walkers to fill that up."

Kevin scoffed, "No way. She's just nuts. A walker got somebody close to her or somethin' so she's going all scorched Earth about it. Look, asshole, there's a ramp up to the roof on that building, though. She built an exit!"

"Maybe so that she doesn't have to go through that maze every time to supply, dumbshit."

Kevin grumbled a "No way, man," but privately agreed that Snake probably had a point. No way he'd admit that now though.

They stood for a few moments more in silence, forming their own private theories while watching the crazy woman.

"Well, boys, I got myself a  _hankerin'_ ," Negan grinned.

"A hankerin', boss?" Kevin asked eagerly.

"Yessir-fuckin'-ree!" Negan clapped his hand on Kevin's shoulder. Kevin blushed a little, looking almost pleased. "You know what they say about crazy bitches? Between the sheets?" Negan licked his lips, a slow smile spreading on his face. "Well, I see we got ourselves a fuckin'  _live_ one!"

 _Goddamn, If she built this thing herself, what else is she capable of?_  Negan thought.  _Between her and Dr. Smartypants, I'll have a helluva fuckin' team. So many questions…_

By this time a few dozen walkers had gathered around the perimeter fence, with more ambling closer. As the other guys chattered about how  _they_  would have made the maze better (Kevin proposed spinning blades to slice them up, which Snake dismissed as just  _stupid)_ , Negan had wandered away from them, needing some space to think.

How could he get there without spooking her? The walkers were gathering, too many to approach the fence and shout hello like goddamn neighbors in the suburbs. The walkway to the other building was useful, but he didn't want to expose himself to getting shot if she was startled. Or actually crazy. He didn't want to send in his men alone and have them fuck it up, either. This situation required the  _finesse_  that he specialized in. Charisma and a winning smile.

He noticed the speakers and thought about the feedback nearly blowing out Kevin's eardrum the other day. A lightbulb flashed in his head, and he laughed at his own ingenuity.

"Kevin! Get your ass over here, Limp Dick! I got a fuckin' job for you!"

/ / / / /

 

**AN: Please review and let me know your thoughts so far, I know it's a bit of a slow build-up but I hope you are enjoying it so far. It is a dark story to write, but immense fun, and I appreciate any feedback you have. I am trying to keep the format of switching perspectives each chapter, but as the story progresses it may change a bit depending on what the story calls for.**

**Another item I wanted to mention is that I am exploring some dark themes in this story such as depression, trauma, post-traumatic stress disorder, etc. Please please do not keep reading if it becomes difficult or triggering for you at all at any point.**

**I posted more frequently to catch this story up to it's counterpart on FFN, so from now on updates will hopefully be weekly every Saturday on both platforms!**


	4. Chapter 4

** Chapter 4 **

_Thank god I added railings to the walkways._

After a few beers, Lucy decided she was just a touch too wobbly to keep up with the air horn and barrage of verbal harassment. The walker crowd had built up enough to quit blasting it anyhow, their raspy moans beckoning other undead to come and see. She marched back to the hub with the solid determination that alcohol brings.

The rails proved useful friends to guide her way back. She scolded the walkers for not forming an orderly line at the gate and cackled. The warm buzz in her belly was welcome. This was way more fun than she thought, and that stupid mean voice in her head had finally shut up for awhile.  _I'm where I'm supposed to be._ All her doubts and worries from before were just plain silly! Only nerves, completely natural before a big life (or death, she supposed) change.

The sun was lower in the horizon, not  _quite_  time to turn on the lights and music… but soon. There wasn't enough of a crowd yet to open the gates either, just a teaser of more to come shuffling around. The traps would work best with lots of them cramming in the corridors, anyways. Lucy drained the can and tossed it at the fence, but it fell several yards short. "Pfffffffffffttttt, what _ever_. This beer ain't that good, anyways _._  Non-aruro…air-ee-oo. Wait, I got this! Non AERO-dynamic cans."

She was more interested in that _gorgeous_  amber whiskey she had stashed away. That shit must have been at least seventy, eighty bucks maybe. Hard liquor was for after sunset, though, when the show would really get popping. She was never a big drinker, even in college, but sometimes hard living called for a shot or two of alcohol (when available) just to sleep on the plethora of concrete floors, abandoned houses, rickety treehouses…

After a slightly-harder-than-usual climb up the hub ladder, she plopped down in her camping chair and surveyed the gathering crowd. "SHOW DOESN'T START TIL SUNSET, YA IMPATIENT BASTARDS!" she yelled after seeing a two metalhead looking walkers snapping at the fence. A fit of giggles suddenly burst up, which then evolved into full-blown hysterical laughter, complete with snorting and tears and an occasional wheezing for air. "Ahhh shit, that's funny... I don't know why." she said after it passed, wiping away laughter tears. It would just be slightly more fun if someone else was here, some living soul to throw cans with and yell and laugh. But no matter, this task was best left to her own devices, anyways.

Lucy sighed, almost content feeling for the first time in years. The crowd was gathering nicely, and she could see more and more walkers drawing closer.  _Maybe I'm drawing them away from getting to others. Maybe other people will be safe because of this…I hope,_ she thought. Even the mean voice agreed inside, everything was as it should be.

As she scanned her surroundings looking for more walkers, she suddenly jolted upright. Distant figures on the rooftop of a hillside convenience store opposite her were milling about casually, watching her maze. Watching  _her._  Sweat prickled her hands a little, heartbeat picking up.  _Shit. SHIT._

Across the way, a tall man in a black leather jacket and a white shirt watched her with binoculars, along with a handful of other men. One was sitting in a chair, smoking a cigarette, the other two just milling around. They were all watching…her.  _What the…_

Leather-jacket-guy gave a flick of his hand somewhere between a salute and a wave, and (she assumed) smiled based on the flash of white that appeared, although they too far away to really tell. Before she could stop herself, she gave a weak wave in return.

That damn voice came back, full of vitriol and venom.

_They've come to watch you die. Front show seats to the death show. Give 'em hell, let them watch you slaughter walkers, then blow your brains out. It'll be fun._

"Shut up," she whispered. "Shut UP." The sound of walkers faded away, all that she could hear now were her racing thoughts and heartbeat,  _thump thump thumping_. A slight ringing, a tinnitus-y hum that was always lurking was growing louder and louder.

Deep breaths.  _This is fine, I can work with this._  After all, the key to a good plan is flexibility.

She wondered whether she should be mad or not, but settled somewhere on a mix of annoyed and amused. It was pretty nice to see some actual living, human beings that weren't actively trying to kill her. But conversely, despite the public display, this was a very personal, private display she had made. A tribute to her personal losses, an appeasement to internal demons. In the fog of obsession with the dead (and undead), she actually had never considered that the living would be interested in this at all.

_How stupid to assume no one would notice,_  Lucy scolded herself.  _Of COURSE this would generate some attention_. Honestly, it was surprising no one living noticed sooner. Perhaps they were passersby, rightfully wondering what the heck this monstrosity was, and whether she, the creator, was a few cards short a full deck.

_Yes. Yes, you are._

She wondered how long they had been watching her as she dug around in her rucksack. She found her own binoculars and used them to get a better look at the men. Leather-jacket-guy was still smiling, and when their binoculars met, she saw him laugh heartily and say something to the others. He had dark hair slicked back hair, a salt-and-pepper beard, and a really nice smile. Cocky, but nice.

_You're a charmer and you know it,_ she thought.  _Well_ , a _t least someone alive will be entertained by this._ Her last encounter with a group of men had all but ruined her, but she got the feeling that if this group wanted to harm her, they would have by now. If they'd been there awhile, she had been a sitting duck before the walkers gathered. One well-aimed rifle shot by one of those men and she would've been a goner.

Lucy shifted from foot to foot, suddenly felt very self-conscious. The walkers were growing in numbers, just begging for some music and mutilation, and now a live audience was in attendance. She felt like an idiot staring through binoculars at someone staring at her through binoculars. Oddly redundant. Were they just going to stare at one another, smiling and waving like idiots? She set the binoculars down on the center console and began checking wires. They were all neatly aligned and carefully marked, but her hands needed something to do, and she needed to be distracted from the nervous pit that was slowly forming in her stomach.

An old voice emerged, one that had been battered and bruised, beaten into submission. An old friend she had not felt in some time.

_What the fuck are you doing? Are you really going to do this?_

 

/ / / / /

 

It was better than Negan could have imagined. He watched the woman fiddle around, nervous and unsure. He wished he could better enjoy the view when she bent over ( _does she like to wear trashy lingerie, or is she more of a classy lace type gal?)_ , but she was partially hidden by boxes and the center console. Negan continued to watch, a lion that spotted the weakest gazelle. Plans were formulating.

_I know you,_  he thought.  _You can pretend to hide your fuckin' discomfort with dickin' around, but we have turned your little world upside down._ He swore she glanced over a few times, checking to see if she was still being watched. Hard to pin his hat on it as fact, though.

He prided himself in the ability to quickly read people and understand motivations. Rarely did Negan misjudge a person, and when he did, his own special brand of hell would rain down in vengeance.

Back at Sanctuary, in Negan's personal bookshelf he had several psychology books peppered in with a hodgepodge of various other genres. A leader should understand people, their wants and needs. Negan was in charge of hundreds of broken, shattered people. Trauma was lined in their faces every day. His draconian laws were  _necessary_  to keep everyone in line. He would never admit it, but even occasionally his stomach turned when having to administer punishments to his people. Just a little bit, though. He was the only one that could do it, and do it well. He lost sleep over pricks like Rick, the self-righteous bastard, not doling out Lucille on stupid fucks that can't follow rules. Losing another group of people, another settlement, was not an option for Negan. People needed him, depended on him to keep the walkers and looters and rapists and murderers at bay, some of them just didn't realize it yet.

Once Negan had started watching this woman not give a shit about anything except the walkers, he had been sizing her up. Placing her into boxes and finding she didn't fit, trying another box. He didn't think she lost a husband or significant others, those people usually withdrew into themselves at the loss and loneliness, or lashing out at the specific walker or person that caused their death. Such an over-the-top, obsessive outpouring of anger and grief at every single walker in sight marked… something else. Something Negan had not seen before. There was rage there, hurt and anger. There was something more, too.

He was hungry and curious, curious and hungry.

With Kevin away on Negan's errand, Dwight and Snake now bickered over the practicality of a Whack-a-Mole type game with walkers. Dwight was arguing the therapeutic qualities to offer it to residents while Snake was irritably checking the cleanliness of his gun, lovingly cleaned only earlier that week. Negan sighed audibly.  _Where the fuck is Kevin?_

A few nearby moans indicated some walkers had begun to shuffle down the street behind the convenience store, towards the hubbub of the parking lot. Negan grabbed Lucille. "C'mon Lucille. Baby, you look  _thirsty."_ Uneasy energy bubbled in his chest and he needed a release. He slid down the ladder and took out the roamers, happily killing time before Kevin got back. After he wiped the worst of the gore from Lucille on one of the walker's rotted jeans, he heard panting and solid boots slapping the ground. Negan flashed a smile and turned around- Kevin was back.

"Heya boss. We're- uh- we're good to go. The back entrance there – behind that building… It's uh, pretty solid, you know? Thicker fence then the construction one." Kevin wiped his sweaty brow. "The walkers aren't bothering it much right now. They didn't pay me much nevermind as long as I uh- you know, stayed far enough away. It's solid back there, though." He sputtered.

Negan rolled his eyes – a short fucking sentence would take five times as long with Kevin at the helm. "Please tell me you remembered to fuckin' turn it on, dipshit. What channel d'you leave it on?"

Kevin gulped. "Uhhh. Five. I think. Shit. I don't remember if I left it on- no wait I did, I made sure the light was on. I didn't-"

Negan shook his head, impatient, jerked his head up towards their lookout spot. "Doooon't care. Get the fuck up on the roof and shut the fuck up, in no particular order," Negan growled, poking Kevin's back with Lucille. "Go, go, go, go, fuckin' GO!"

The timid man scrambled up the ladder, followed by Negan. Once they were settled, he grabbed the binoculars and watched the woman gingerly shift boxes around, still occasionally stealing glances up at them. He waited for her to pause a moment, catch her breath, then he pressed the call button on his walkie talkie.

_Eeeeeeeeeeee. Eeeeeeeeeee. Eeeeeeeeeee._

He watched her look around, trying to locate the source of the high-pitched whine.

_Come on, darlin'._

She looked over at him, grabbed the binoculars and looked again. He lazily pointed Lucille to the rooftop attached to the hub, blood oozing slightly from her barbs and leaving droplets on the graveled roof. The woman set down her binoculars and consider seemed to consider him, weighing her options.

_Won't you come into my motherfuckin' parlor, said the absurdly handsome Spider to the hopefully-super-hot Fly,_ Negan thought. He watched her walk towards the rooftop, licking his lips in anticipation. She glanced back at one point, unsure, but turned and kept going.  _Atta girl._  He kept pressing the button so she'd find the other walkie.

_Eeeeeeeeeeee. Eeeeeeeeeee. Eeeeeeeeeee._

She disappeared behind the cement stairway entrance where Kevin had placed the other walkie. She popped around the side a few minutes later, smiling and waving the walkie, but didn't try to use it yet. Negan watched her hungrily as she made her way back to the hub, anxious and curious and all other kinds of emotions he didn't even have a name to yet.

 

/ / / / /

 

Lucy's mind was racing.  _What on earth is going on? These guys want to talk? Are they pissed about all the noise?_  She bit back a giggle, recalling a hazy booze-filled memory from before the collapse, angry neighbors banging against the wall to protest the blasting music. She didn't want to talk yet on the rooftop, still feeling a little raw and exposed, but on the walkway back to the hub she felt the bravado that often accompanies the buzz of alcohol. She'd amplify her Southern charm, perhaps smooth any ruffled feathers and get some questions answered in the meantime. They obviously had some too. She flopped down in the chair, lazily draping her legs over the arm (it was not very comfortable but she knew it made her legs and butt looked good) and pressed the "Speak" button on the walkie.

"Am I disturbing you  _boys_  with this racket?" she drawled, letting her Georgia accent slide out a little more than usual, smooth as molasses and sweet as pie.

A deep, husky voice returned, an almost-growl that perfectly matched what she hoped leather-jacket-guy sounded like. "Oh, we are a little  _disturbed…_ but not in the way you think, sugar. Curious? Yes. Intrigued? Shit, yeah. I have some fuckin'  _questions_ for  _you_ , darlin'."

"Really? What sort of questions do you have,  _James Dean_?"

She heard a low chuckle and bit her lip. "All kinds. All fuckin' kinds, darlin'. But excuse my fuckin' manners! What's your name, dollface?" came the reply.

"You best be careful, callin' me  _dollface_  n' being so far away… I could be butt-ugly, and that might just put you in a pickle," she teased. "Well, my name's Lucy. What's yours,  _mister…?_ "

Silence. She glanced up, and he still appeared to be standing there, but not saying anything. Maybe he was considering if she was butt-ugly and whether he wanted to continue the conversation.  _Crap._   _You are rusty from only having yourself to converse with, missy_ , she thought. Maybe he couldn't hear her?  _Shit._

"Helloooo? Can you hear me?" she called into the walkie.

He cleared his throat, but his voice sounded a little strange. " _Lucy._  Well, that's a pretty name, Lucy. My name's Negan, darlin' and don't you  _forget_ it." She saw him lean back in emphasis on the last word. His easy confidence and swagger reminded Lucy of a rich playboy… or a drunk pirate. He lifted a baseball bat in his hand. "This here's Lucille, I think you two will get along just fuckin' peachy."

_Ah. Lucille/Lucy. Explains the hesitation._

She smiled. "Well,  _Negan._ Tell you what, now that we are properly acquainted, I'll answer your questions. Every last one, I don't give a damn. But, for every question you ask me, I get to ask one in return until my questions are exhausted. Do we have an accord?"

"Oh, don't worry, I will _exhaust_  you since you asked so nicely…Hell yeah, we got an  _accord_. Now, I will be a fuckin' gentleman and let you have the first question, sugar." She watched him gesture towards a skinny nervous-looking guy sitting a plastic lawn chair, who shot up scurried away, tripping over his own feet in the retreat. Negan sat down in the now-vacant seat, putting the baseball bat in his hand carefully on the ground. Lucy squinted further at the bat and saw barbed wire wrapped around the bat's body.  _That's pretty damn cool_ , she thought.

"Alright. Why are you watchin' me, Negan?"

"Fair question, doll, fair fuckin' question. See, me and my boys came here to grab some hardware and shit, if anything was still left. Instead of a half-constructed piece of shit mall, we happened upon a crazy badass fuckin' maze that looks like some fuckin' genius nutjob put a lot of effort into."

"Fair enough, I'll give you that one. What's your question?" she asked.

A pause. "Did you build this alone?"

"Yes." She left it at that, no elaboration. She wondered if they were scouting to see if she was alone, vulnerable. They probably knew already though, no use in pretending. "How long you been watchin' me?"

"Me, just today. And may I just say, what a  _fuckin' pleasure_  it has been to watch you. I could sit here all goddamn day, watching you work, darlin', and watch your ass in those short-shorts." Lucy rolled her eyes. "But my men were out here a couple days ago, checking things out. My question: You built it alone, so are you alone? No people to get back to after this, I mean?"

She sat for a moment, thinking about how to answer. If he wanted to, he could have just strolled up instead of leaving a walkie-talkie to communicate through. They could have rolled in easily at any point, without announcing themselves. But he didn't. He had given her the choice to talk or not.

"Yes. I don't have anybody. Everyone is dead. I didn't even really know for sure if there were people left, but I suppose I've been avoidin' company." It was hard to say out loud, the words tasted bad.  _Alone._  "Why did you want to talk to me?"

"Well, that's a good fuckin' question, doll. I don't rightly know myself except fuckin' curiosity and admiration. Wanted to hear from you about what your goddamn purpose was here. And I always love talkin' to gorgeous ladies, even if they might be a touch crazy."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed.  _God, I hope he's cute with all this flirting we are doing._ "Admiration? Why?"

"Take a fuckin' look around you, Miss  _Lucy_. That thing must have taken weeks, hell,  _months_  of you workin' on it all by your little  _lonesome_  self. I'm sure you got some more fuckin' tricks up your sleeve too. We can't see shit over here except the top of that maze and some fuckin'  _bear traps_  you hauled out today. Now I get  _two_ questions for your two you just asked. Why did you build this, and what's your end goal, sugar?"

Lucy held onto the walkie, taking a deep breath. She didn't expect to go to a confessional and some feelings were still raw.  _But what does it matter?_  She might as well be honest, especially to someone this curious about her.

"I wanted to take out as many walkers as I could, and get some sort of… sick entertainment out of it, I guess. They've taken away so much, killed so many I had- have all this…anger…" She paused, taking a deep breath. "I channeled it into…this. I wanted to, I dunno- make a show out of it. Before I die. That's..that's my end goal, Negan- to die. Once I see enough of them burn to ash, I got a revolver here, just for me."

She sighed, closing her eyes. "I'm tired, Negan. I'm tired of watchin' the living die. I'm just… tired..." Her eyes welled up with tears, but she pushed those feelings back down, back into a little box to put in the recesses of her mind.

Negan was quiet for a moment, then she heard a low whistle. "Sheeee-yit. That's some heavy stuff there, darlin'. I get it- this world ain't sunshine and fuckin' rainbows. It sure as shit wasn't before, and even less fuckin' so now. Believe me, doll,  _I get it._ Every fuckin' word you are saying."

She heard him clear his throat. "But offing yourself, when you can make cool ass shit like  _this?_  Fuck, we are all going to be worse off without you here… Lucy…" He paused, for a moment. Lucy stood up and began pacing along the hub, clutching the walkie. "I miss you already and I haven't even seen your butt-ugly face yet, doll."

She didn't press the Speak button, but she laughed. After a moment, he spoke. "Your turn, doll."

"Oh! Um. Is that all of you up on the roof, or is there more? People, I mean."

"Oh, there's more of us, darlin', you better be-fuckin'-lieve it. A shitload. We got ourselves a nice fuckin' settlement going on, and…contacts… with others. Lots of livin' still going on, sugar. And livin' is  _good_. How'd you learn to build all this shit?"

Lucy's heart quickened. If it was true, if they had a large group of people… were they safe? Did they go to sleep and rest after a long day's work, or close their eyes only to battle demons until dawn?

She moved to answering his question. "My dad owned a construction company…before. It was just me, him, and my sister. Dad was busy, so that's how I spent time with him growing up. Workin' on job sites, learnin' how to put things together. I went to college for engineering to take over the family business some day. Some of the stuff I learned from books I found, though. Who are the others with you?"

Negan chuckled. "Goddamn are you just  _adorable_ or what? Well, I've got Dwighty-boy here (Dwight, wave your goddamn hand), Snake's smoking a cigarette over there near the ledge… and here's Kevin, AKA Limp Dick (Kevin, wave your goddamn hand or I will shove-)"

Lucy giggled as the walkie cut out before she could hear what would happen to Kevin. "I ain't even going to ask. I'll assume the name is self-explanatory," she said. "What's your question?"

"Might as well lay out the fuckin' cards, doll. I am at your goddamn  _mercy_. How can little ol'  _me_  talk you out of the end fuckin' goal of your plan?"

Lucy exhaled. This was  _not_  how she planned this evening would go. She thought she was so sure, so ready. But she hadn't counted on people, other people,  _living_  people. Part of her felt like telling him to go to hell, smash that walkie against the concrete below. But another part...curled up deep inside, unfurled when she first saw them. It longed for human contact, slowly growing in strength the longer she spoke with Negan. It had been so long since she'd seen another living person, talked to someone other than herself. Things might be okay, she might be okay.

She had always been a social creature, making big meals and bringing them out to the crews at her dad's job sites, listening to grunts of appreciation and asking about their wives and kids. She loved bringing people together, hearing laughter, the warmth of family and friends. It seemed so long ago, though. Memories faded, like footsteps in the sand.

_And the children._  Flashes of their faces, faces she blocked out, couldn't bear to look at or think about. Did she remember all their names? She remembered how each of them died. Vividly.

She realized the silence had gone on for too long. She glanced up at Negan, he was still standing there patiently. He  _must_  have known the weight of that question.

_Yes, you can,_ a small voice, a little louder than before.  _Talk me out of it._

When she thought about the future before, she never dreamed past the next few days. It ended here. It  _has_  to. "I-I don't think you can, Negan."

_But why?_

"That doesn't sound very confident, darlin'." His gruff voice sounded so solid, so sure of himself. Every word grounded in steel. She shifted uncomfortably. There was a hand reaching out in the fog, begging her to take it. Begging to drag her out.

"Yeah. I know." She didn't know what else to say, except to be honest. If he would have dropped the walkie and left, though, she must just run after him like a frightened child, clinging to safety. Maybe… maybe if she could see them better, maybe she wouldn't feel so confused. She half-wondered if she was hallucinating the whole thing, being alone for so long.

Only one way to find out. She took a deep breath and said into the walkie, "Well, it's still a light crowd and I'm going to start up some of this shit soon. I'd love some company tonight if it's going to be my last few nights alive on this Earth. You guys want to haul your sorry butts over for some semi-cold beer and possibly good whiskey and watch the show?"

A momentary pause. She thought she saw Negan smile. "Thought you'd never ask, doll."

 

/ / / / /

 

**AN: Finally! So, this chapter was initially two shorter chapters, but I couldn't stand leaving them not talking for another week. In case anyone is interested, I've been obsessively listening to "The Matador" by The White Buffalo when I edited this week (especially when writing Negan's POV). Hope you are enjoying so far, thanks for all the comments and kudos!**

**xoxo**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 

“Why the fuck are we going around to meet this crazy bitch? She’s gonna get us all killed!”  Snake grumbled as the group climbed down the convenience store roof to load into the truck.

Negan smiled sweetly, his eyes glimmering dangerously.  He handed Lucille over to Dwight, who shifted nervously and darted his eyes between the two.  Something was brewing.  

_Frightened little bitch._

Negan furrowed his brow, arms crossed.  “You _scared,_ Snakey?”  He leaned back for emphasis, tilting his head.  The usual easy swagger he carried himself with was dissipating quickly, leaving raw anger behind.

Snake snorted, about to reply something snide, when Negan darted forward.  He was surprisingly fast for his tall stature, a lion descending on a gazelle.  He grabbed the back of Snake’s neck and shoved him to the edge of the road, overlooking the parking lot.  Tightening his grip, skin bulging from under his fingers, he ensured that Snake couldn’t turn his head.

Negan leaned in, his voice a low growl.  “You SEE that shit? That was built by ONE fuckin’ chick.  Yeah, she’s fuckin’ crazy!  She’s lucid though, she can hold a goddamn five-minute conversation better than most of you fuckin’ Dick Brigade motherfuckers.”  He maintained a solid grip, leaning in closer to Snake’s ear, practically hissing.  “We will go up into that shitstorm of crazy, drink some fuckin’ beer, try to not get fuckin’ killed, and have a JOLLY ol’ fuckin’ time watching those walkers get fucked up.”

Dwight immediately placed Lucille in Negan’s free hand, now outstretched and waiting.  Negan dangled Lucille where Snake could see, a warning and a promise, then pointed her towards the maze.  “I want HER at Sanctuary.  Hell, I will pick up this fuckin’ maze and move it my fuckin’ self.”   Negan licked his lips and lean back, Lucille now pointing back at Snake.  Her barbs shone in the sunlight, eager and thirsty.  “You pricks can stay on the goddamn roof with your fuckin’ thumbs up your asses for all I give a shit.  If I can convince that crazy-ass bitch with _beach-ball sized lady nuts_ to come back to Sanctuary and hone-in THAT fuckin’ energy on something productive, well, I would just piss my fuckin’ pants with _glee,”_ Negan growled, pushing Snake down to the ground.

He turned to the rest of them, strolling back and forth in front of them.  “Being a fuckin’ leader of you shitbags ain’t just about swinging my _generously_ -sized dick around, crackin’ skulls, as DE-lightful as that is.  I gotta look out for talent.  I gotta _attract_ talent. For MY. GODDAMN. PEOPLE!  If she can make something half as bad-ASS and goddamn COOL-AS-SHIT for Sanctuary, I don’t give a fuck if she collects toenail clippings in a jar whistlin’ ‘Dixie’ all day, so long as she makes ME shit like THIS.”   A vein throbbed in Negan’s neck, pulsing with rage.  Dwight was worried.  That vein could tell you about how close he was to ‘crackin’ skulls’, and Snake was in dangerous territory.  Snake seemed to realize it too, resorting to playing possum on the ground until told otherwise.

Negan turned and glared out towards his men, eyes full of fire and breathing heavy.  A walker’s growl pierced the silence.  The men eyed each other nervously, too afraid to move, but worried inaction was also an incorrect choice.  It was sometimes hard to tell when Negan was in a mood.

Negan turned on his heel and quickly approached the undead interrupter.  Lucille cracked into its skull over and over.  The walker fell to the ground quickly, but Lucille continued quenching her thirst.  _Dirty girl._ Bone cracked and organs squelched, blood splattering Negan’s boots.

_THUMP. THUMP. THUMP._

The walker was long since down and out, but Negan continued bashing until just a pile of gore lay before him.  He turned back around, eyes blazing as he eyeballed the Saviors. Feeling his blood pressure lessen, he finally cracked a smile, running his tongue over his cheek as he surveyed his men. He broke the silence.  “Do I make myself fuckin’ clear?”

Blood and chunks of flesh dripped off of Lucille.  Snake swallowed his fear, and decided to smooth the waters.  “Alright, boss.  Whatever you say.  We’ll head over there.  Sorry for questionin’ you, ” he managed to choke out.

Negan tilted his head to meet Snake’s gaze and leaned back.  “Well, glad you’re on fuckin’ board.  You may _now_ get the fuck up.”

As they loaded up, Negan considered the conversation he just had with the not-quite-that-crazy-lady.  She sounded sure of herself at first, with that sweet drawl that made him wonder what she sounded like screaming his name as he screwed her brains out.  _Please be hot,_ he thought.

It hadn’t taken Negan too long to crack through that veneer she’d so carefully constructed around herself.  He had been working on Rick the Prick for _ages_ , so he was well-practiced in breaking down mental barriers.  Unlike Rick, hers was hastily constructed, and took little effort to break down.  For Negan, at least, it was easy work.

Lucy ( _that name…it would be hard to get used to…_ ) had devoted so much energy to building that maze for a cause…for a purpose.  Alone. Death seemed like a natural conclusion, but there was a part of her screaming to back out, Negan just knew it.  He could hear it, taste it, smell it.  He could fucking _feel_ it.

They loaded up into the truck, carefully circling around the mall and giving a wide berth to the gathering herd.  Just as Kevin said, the back of the half-constructed building was fairly walker-free with just a few stragglers shuffling around, trying to find their way to the rest of the herd.  A wrought-iron fence lined the back, the padlock long since removed, but it was a convenient enough gate to have a latch.  Kevin jumped out and unlatched it, letting the truck pass inside, then re-latched it closed.  

While they unloaded, Kevin looked around.  “Hey – the walkers…they don’t seem too…you know.  Interested in us?  They seem to go to the herd more.  That might make a getaway a little easier.  Maybe.”

Snake grunted.  He was less than thrilled to be a part of this, just wanting to go home, shower, and bang his girlfriend.  Out of earshot, he hissed to Kevin.  “Negan would do anything for some hot chick’s pussy. Even more so if she doesn’t seem into it, and double that if she was crazy.  He likes the fuckin’ chase, man.  Don’t come cryin’ to me if we all get killed, is all I’m sayin’.”

Kevin frowned and eyed Negan nervously, who was a safe distance away scoping out the building with Dwight.  “We’d be dead so I couldn’t come cryin’ anyways, asshole.  Not that I would at all. Cry, I mean.  Well, anyways, even if he does just want to bang her, it would be nice if we had her at Sanctuary.  She could help out, is all I’m sayin’.  That one side of the fence is shot to shit, and we could use better defenses and shit.  Negan likes useful people.”

Snake was unconvinced.  But anything was better than a kiss (or several) from Lucille, so he decided to wait in the truck and smoke the rest of his cigarettes until Negan got bored.  He’d get bored eventually, Snake hoped.

Negan, Dwight, and Kevin climbed through a concrete stairwell several stories tall to the rooftop, then made their way to the walkway on the opposite side.  They kept their eyes peeled for any hint of booby traps, but the coast was clear.  When they reached the edge overlooking the maze, Kevin took one look at the walkways.  Seeing all the traps and spikes from a new angle, glowing in the red-orange light of dusk, he decided he would best be useful keeping a lookout on the rooftop.  Snake would be ready to peel out at any moment, Kevin keeping watch.

Negan heartily agreed.  Kevin could be kind of a mood-killer, anyways, sputtering and tripping over himself.  Dwight, however, accepted his fate as the third wheel in this excursion, silently hoping the beer was at least colder than lukewarm.  He had gotten to where he was by keeping his goddamn mouth shut and going with Negan’s lead.

Negan whistled, Lucille casually slung over his shoulder, as he swaggered down the walkway to the center hub.  He nearly stopped when he actually felt a tiny flutter of butterflies in his stomach.  When was the last time he had felt _that?_ Certainly no one else needed to fucking know, though.

Dwight slouched behind him, shuffling along the walkway and praying they would support the two of them.  Despite some creaks and moans though, it seemed solid.

The light was slowly fading.  Lucy had flipped on a lantern to illuminate part of the hub, giving it an oddly ordinary appearance.   _We’re just here for some hot dogs and hamburgers,_ it seemed to say.  Lucy was sitting on the ground, sticking some handmade labels on different buttons.  When she heard Negan’s whistle and heavy footsteps, she turned and looked over, smiling shyly. 

She was even more gorgeous than he had imagined.  He thought his wives were all nines and tens, but this chick, _she_ was a fucking twelve and his wives paled in comparison.  She was tall, a little scrawny, but muscular.  Not too muscular, though, just enough to let you know she could throw a decent punch.  With a few more pounds on her she’d fill in more with that lovely feminine softness.  She had full lips that would drive any sane man crazy, and a small thin scar along her jawline that added an element of toughness, that she’d seen this world and fought in it.  Her eyes were kind and bright, but tired… a sadness lurking behind. Nothing that some good food, rest (and in Negan’s opinion, a good fuck) wouldn’t fix up.

Her fear of people was now much more understandable.  She’d no doubt have a rough time of it, most likely from men.

_Not anymore, doll._

It was going to be a lot more difficult to control himself tonight, to be on his _best behavior_.  He flashed her his most charming smile (who was he kidding, _all_ his smiles were charming), and kissed her hand with a gallant flourish.

“Well, here she fuckin’ is, in the flesh.  And lookie here, Dwighty-boy! She ain’t butt-ugly at all!  How are you, dollface?”

 

/ / / / /

 

Lucy couldn’t stop smiling.  _You probably look like a dumbass,_ she thought.  Negan was laying the charm on thick, some undercurrent of ulterior motives lurking underneath.  Lucy wasn’t naïve, she knew they weren’t here strictly out of the kindness of their hearts.  But Negan seemed genuinely sincere in his compliments and enthusiasm, and around him she didn’t feel the usual pit in her stomach that she felt around most others she had encountered. He had introduced his baseball bat, wrapped in barbed wire and speckled with fresh blood as Lucille.  _That explains why he hesitated after my name, probably heard Lucille instead and threw him for a loop._ Maybe he was a little nutty too, the way he talked about that bat as if it (she?) was alive.

Negan was like a kid in a candy shop, buzzing with excitement and anticipation.  The way he kept pointing to things asking, “What the fuck does THAT do?” with a boyish curiosity was endearing.  He laughed easily and seemed to blow away all the sadness that clung to Lucy like a desperate fog.

Negan was handsome, with an easy smile and playful manner, with just enough (well, probably too much) danger lurking underneath to get her a little riled up.  He had dark hair and dark eyes, his graying beard and face lines indicating he had at least fifteen years on Lucy.  He would look down at her sometimes and smile, sticking his tongue in his cheek or run it across his teeth in a way that made her blush.

Poor Dwight looked uncomfortable, twitchy, but could she blame him?  How did he know she wasn’t going to take out a shotgun and blast them all, when she had made this crazy contraption?  She would occasionally catch Dwight’s eye and give him a quick reassuring smile, hoping it didn’t look like a crazy one instead.

Lucy rummaged around in the cooler and extracted a few beers.  Handing them to Negan and Dwight, she smiled and lifted her can.  “As promised.  Ice ain’t too easy to come by, but I dug a hole in the ground in a shady spot under a tree and let ‘em sit overnight.  That kind of chills them a bit.”  A few cracks and _hisses_ later, they all clinked cans.

“To new fuckin’ friends,” Negan toasted.  He hesitated, about to say something else, but clamped his mouth shut.  They all took an eager sip, refreshing in the humid summer air.

“Hey guys?” Kevin called out, kicking at the gravel on the roof.  “Hey!  Sorry to- I’m awful thirsty, too.  Can someone- you know…bring me a beer?  Hi Lucy, nice to meet you!  It’s me, Kevin.”

Negan muttered “Oh Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” while Lucy covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.  Kevin continued, “A beer sure will help pass the time up here.  While I keep watch.  If you can.”

Dwight rolled his eyes and grabbed a few more beers, lobbing them at Kevin (“Thanks!”).  He caught two, but one (that Kevin would later swear that Dwight purposefully threw) hit near his feet and burst, spurting foam and beer all over the roof and Kevin’s boots.  They all heard an “Aw, man!” and chuckled.  Poor Kevin.   

The look in Negan’s eyes when they were on Lucy could be categorized as ‘hungry,’ which made her a little flustered.  It had been… a long time since she’d been around men, let alone an attractive one.  She needed a distraction, so they didn’t just stand around staring at each other like assholes.

“So, uh…you boys want a tour?” She cleared her throat and smiled.

“Shit, yeah.”  Negan gave her those hungry eyes, a smirk playing at his lips.  “Lead the fuckin’ way, _darlin_ ’!”

“Alrighty.  Let’s start over by the gates and we’ll head through.”  They walked towards the front entrance. _Please, please, please don’t break,_ she prayed to the walkways.  Of course, shit usually breaks down when there’s an audience, no matter how many times you check it beforehand.

“Once enough of them show up, I’ll open the gates and let ‘em through.  The gates are tough, thickest metal I could find without compromising the rest of the fence with the weight.  I had to reinforce the poles and I piled up stones and debris around the base of the fence on each side as far as I could.”  She pointed to the gates themselves.  “See how I made the doors serrated, like a steak knife?  It will slice any stragglers instead of providing a flat surface that their bones and stuff just get stuck in.  The outer gate I think will eventually get stuck open, but the inner gate is within reach that I might be able to push out anything obstructing the gate from closing.” She led them around the first walkway, pointing down.

“Bear traps are here, but they’re really just one use only.  They might help slow down the herd that comes through though.  The walls are spiked in some areas, mainly the turning points. I made them short enough so they’ll get shredded up pretty good, but hopefully not stuck.”  She reached down and grabbed long, sturdy pole with a rounded end and padded handle. “I got some pokin’ sticks to move ‘em around if needed.”

Negan opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it and instead settled on: “It’s a great… poking stick, doll.”  He seemed slightly pained at holding something in.  Lucy raised her eyebrow as if to ask if he was okay, but Negan didn’t elaborate.

_Probably weirded out,_ she thought.

Dwight half-wondered if Negan injured himself with a hernia or some shit with the restraint he was showing.  “It looks like you could also bash them in the head pretty good, too,” Dwight said, filling the silence.

Lucy nodded, and led them to a different section, slowly creeping back to the hub.  “See the spike strips?  There’s more later on after a bit, but these ones will shred their feet good to start off.  Once they can’t walk though, they’ll just get in the way, crawling and holding up the rest of ‘em and tripping them all up.   I don’t want them piling up too much, otherwise they might reach the walkways and pull themselves up somehow.”  She pointed back to the hub at some boxes.  “That’s where the fire comes in.  I got some Molotovs and stuff to help out with that.  Close the gates, burn them up, then let more in.”

Dwight nodded in agreement, but when she turned to Negan his brow was furrowed in concentration as he looked out over the maze.  Lucy bit her lip.  “Negan, you don’t seem the quiet sort, but you’ve been awful quiet during the tour.  Dwight, I can see.  He seems a quiet type, I don’t mean that in a bad way, sugar.” She gently touched Dwight’s arm, smiling in reassurance.   “Am I freaking you guys out?  It’s okay.  This shit is crazy, I know.”

Negan stared at her a moment with a small smile.  Dwight just shook his head, but Negan broke into a big smile, biting just a small corner of his lip.  “The only freakin’ out _I’m_ doing is over how cool as SHIT this is!  Holy fuck, it’s awesome!  If you want though, doll, we can always upgrade that to some freaky- _deaky_ , which I also wouldn’t mind…”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, trying to not think about how _good_ his smile felt.  Back to the grand tour of mayhem. 

“Alright, just checking.  This here is a swing trap – see those pressure plates?  A spiked wall is a few feet ahead. That’ll swing forward and knock back any biters when one of ‘em steps on it.”

“FUCK, that’s cool!” Negan said appreciably, finishing his beer and throwing it at the fence.  It splattered snapping walkers with sprays of beer and glass.

“Thanks, that one was a bitch to set up.  They’ll get caught in it too probably, but it’ll help slow them down and kind of is fun to see which one will trigger it and which ones will get hit.  I have a trigger up in the hub that will disable it from being triggered if it gets jammed or whatever.  I think that will be another choke point if any of ‘em get stuck.” Lucy gestured and they followed along another walkway.

They were nearly back to the hub now.  “Oh!  There’s the tarred floor.  That’s more for fun, too, I guess.  A lot of this stuff will only last a few rounds of them I guess.”  She grinned, blushing a little.  “I didn’t expect to give out any tours.  This is weird, isn’t it? Are you weirded out?”

Dwight looked at Negan, who was busy handling another poking stick, probably thinking of a phallic joke and desperately trying to contain it.  For once in his life, he spoke on Negan’s behalf.  “Uh, no.  I mean it’s weird, but it’s not for people, so it’s not that bad I guess.” He took a sip of beer and coughed. 

Lucy thanked him and drained the last of her beer, pitching it towards the walkers that were hissing and howling at the gates.

Negan set down the poking stick and looked back over the maze, eyes bright and a big smile pasted on his face.  “This. Is. SO. GODDAMN. FUCKING. COOL.” Negan sounded like a kid at Christmas.  “I got a halfie just hearing about those spike strips! FUCK!!” He turned to Lucy, throwing his arm over her shoulders and squeezing her tight.  “You, you crazy fuckin’ broad, are a fuckin’ rose amongst thorns.” Lucy giggled, unsure how else to react.

_He smells so good_.  Earthy, like the forest, with a hint of cinnamon and leather.

She stepped away, out of his embrace and coughed awkwardly.  “Well, there’s some more little things here and there, but let’s get the lights on and stuff.”  She started climbing up the ladder as gracefully as possible when she heard Negan make some sort of groaning noise of appreciation.  She was about to ask if he was okay when instead he suddenly asked her, “What are those for?”

Negan pointed with his beer at a cluster of a few dozen hearts, painted in white on the dead-end wall at the base of the hub.  Lucy followed his gaze and when she saw what he was looking at, her face fell from a cheerful confused to sorrow.  In their position to climb up to the hub, they had spotted a tiny area that Lucy had planned on never looking at again.  She’d forgotten in the excitement of the tour.

“Oh.  They- it’s remembrances, I guess.  For those that I lost.  I’m not- I don’t think I can talk about that right now… yet.  Maybe later. After more booze.”

_A lot more booze._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

With the lights on, the maze was almost beautiful… if the haunting sounds of walker groans were ignored.  Holiday lights looped around the railings of the walkway, urging the way through a macabre display and a few spotlights illuminated some of the darker recesses.  The hub was wrapped in twinkle lights, bright and cheerful, and a few lanterns were strung throughout the tent in case of power loss.  The dame had really thought of everything.  It looked almost…festive.

Negan leaned back against the railing, regaling Lucy as she was fiddling with a loose wire about a narrow escape story that he only exaggerated a  _little bit_.  For emphasis, really.  A story needed flourishes and zest, for the listener’s benefit.  He was getting irritated at looking at Dwight’s sour face, practically seeing a tiny little angry storm cloud over his head.   _Miserable son of a bitch,_ Negan thought.   _He’d be pissed in a titty bar with free filet mignon and a scotch fountain._

“Dwight! Uhh hey.  It’s Kevin.” Kevin’s voice crackled into Dwight’s walkie.   _Fucking perfect._

“I know it’s fucking  _you_ , Kevin, you’re the only one with the other fuckin’ walkie on this channel, man,” Dwight said irritably.  “The hell you want?”

“Sorry.  Okay.  Tell Lucy the stuff looks really cool from up here.  Real nice, festive-like.  Hey, Dwight, uh, Snake and I are out of beer.  It’s-he ain’t exactly nice company either. Can someone bring us some more?  If-if not that’s fine. Whatever Negan wants.  It’s cool.”

_Thank Christ, Limp Dick is just makin’ up for himself today!_

He snatched the walkie and sent Dwight to distribute beers to Kevin and Snake and growled to him out of Lucy’s earshot to  _stay put_ , goddammit.   He could sense Lucy feeling uncomfortable Dwight, going out of her way to give goddamn reassuring smiles and little nervous side-eyed glances.  That was the last thing Negan wanted, she needed to feel  _comfortable_.  There was some shit going on, and he was the only one that could get her to claw her way out of the well of fucking despair she fell into.  Alone was better anyways.  This was a goddamn resource he couldn’t let slip by.

Just a resource, that’s all.

He liked this chick, he liked her a lot.  She was nice but not meek, honest but not abrasively so, and just easy to talk to.  She didn’t seem intimidated by him, his reputation meant nothing, which amused Negan.  He  _loved_  being intimidating. The fear in someone’s eye could tell you a lot.  Were they afraid of dying themselves or a loved one?  Once someone’s motivation was understood, it made getting shit done  _a lot_  easier.

Lucy, thinking she would no longer be here in a few days, seemed ... _free._ She didn’t really seem rattled by much that he said, didn’t scold his swearing or affinity for violence.  She’d barely flinched when he mentioned his wives, raising her eyebrows with a bemused smile.  There was a fucking dirty joke that flew through her head and Negan was dying to hear it. Instead, she just asked what their names were.

He was who he was, and she just let that flow.  Lucy…seemed to just  _get it._   How this world changed people and the way they lived.  Something bothered him though, a niggling feeling in his brain.  A worm gnawing and chewing, trying to make its way to the surface.  Negan wanted to show her Sanctuary, show her how he protected and provided for his people.  There was a life to live.  She could help make it better, she needed a purpose.  A focus.

Finally, Lucy stood up from fiddling at a side panel and shrugged.  “Well, all systems go, I guess.  I have Guns N’ Roses playing first, I thought that seemed like good warm-up music.  Do you want the honors of opening the gate?”

Negan smiled.  “Fuck no, doll, this here’s your baby!  Open her up!”

Lucy agreed and laughed.  She grabbed the whiskey bottle tucked away, and took a look at the amber bottle, sighing wistfully.   “Thanks for coming, friend,” she said to the bottle.  She took a swig and handed it to Negan as she pulled the level to the gates.  He gave her a slow smile, grabbed her shoulder and shook playfully as he took a long drink.

The two gates shuttered open, metal screams welcomed the walkers shuffling in.  They snarled and reached towards the duo idiotically, rotted eyes and teeth.  Kevin whooped from the rooftop, “Ohh ho ho BABY!  Slice ‘em and dice ‘em!” as they inched closer to the traps.

Negan rolled his eyes and handed the bottle over to Lucy.   _When does fucking embarrassment outweigh usefulness?_

“Let’s get better look at this shit,” Negan grabbed Lucy’s hand, pulling her towards the walkways near the front entrance to watch the grand opening.  She flinched away at his grasp, but relaxed once he tugged her along.

 “C’mon doll, I just want you to look over your fuckin’  _kingdom_  and admire your goddamn handiwork.”  She apologized, cheeks pink from embarrassment. He dismissed it with a hand wave. “C’mon.”

The group watched with bated breath, wondering which one would get snapped by the beartrap.  Lucy bet it would be Hawaiian Shirt Walker, while Negan bet it would be Farmer Fucking John Walker.  Over the walkie, she took Kevin’s bet (“Dolly Parton Walker”) and Dwight’s bet (“I don’t care”).

They watched with anticipation, until Muumuu Walker took the lead and tripped on a somewhat uneven piece of asphalt, landing face first in the bear trap.  The head made a sickening sound as the trap snapped closed, splattering the walker’s head into a pile of goo.

“OHHHH! That’s gotta fucking hurt,” yelled Kevin from the rooftop.

Lucy was frozen, fascinated. The walkers fought to get in, jostling one another as they made their way into the first part of the maze.  Rotting arms and broken teeth turned up to reach for Lucy as she leaned over the railing, watching them with dark eyes, full of a dozen different emotions.

Negan watched her watching the walkers.  The lights gave everything an odd glow to it, unnatural yet magical.  Lucy caught his eye and smiled, but they said nothing.  They passed the whiskey back and forth wordlessly, ignoring the tingling they both felt when their fingers grazed.  Kevin began to loudly air guitar along to the Queen song now playing, only slightly ruining the mood.

They followed the herd bumbling through the maze, taking swigs of whiskey and joking about the mutilated undead.  They could here Kevin hoot every once in awhile, he had edged closer to the hub walkway on the ledge of the rooftop to get a better look.  Interested, but still afraid, almost on the walkway itself, without actually being on it.

It was a nice night.  Bizarre, but nice.

Negan went to hand her the whiskey but she didn’t take it.  He followed her gaze to the walkers, spotting one that couldn’t have been older than twelve before it had turned.  Lucy was frowning and biting the inside of her cheek, deep in thought.  
“Hey doll, you look like someone shit in your scrambled eggs.”  Negan put his hand gently on her back as she turned away.

“Uh, yeah.  No.  I don’t know.  I didn’t really think about…walker kids.” She sighed and turned around, backing away a little to put some distance between them.  “This is just… weird, I guess.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  I am…was… so angry, full of rage.  I channeled it into this, and was going to spend the last few days drinking and watching walkers die.  Now it all feels so…excessive.”

Negan watched her carefully, measuring his words – a rarity for him.  “Well shit, I could have told you this is fuckin’ excessive.  Not to mention fuckin’ risky as hell.  But it is still cool as shit! Look at that shit, you set up a fuckin’ house of horrors for walkers.  You’ve already fuckin’ killed more than most of my people ever have.”  He paused.  “Listen up, I came here for a goddamn show, as promised. Now, I see those big-ass speakers but I can barely hear the fuckin’ music.  Let’s crank it up, watch this show you have so carefully put the fuck together, and then maybe see how you feel.  Good?”

She smiled, taking the whiskey from his hand. “Good.”

/ / / / /

Two hours later, the gates were closed with a nice herd of a hundred or so walkers jammed into the maze.  They snarled and bumped into one another, reaching up towards the hub.  Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” was blasting from the speakers, while the house party lights spun around multicolored dots.  More walkers rattled at the fences, which were still holding up nicely, although bowing just a little in some areas.

Lucy had dragged Kevin, Dwight, and Snake from their respective hiding holes.  Kevin had been the hardest, it took two of them walking in front and behind him to coax him onto the walkway like a frightened lamb.  He had resorted to crawling the last half, while Lucy tried not to pee herself laughing and Negan was hollering obscenities at him.

She shoved bourbon bottles in their hands (vodka for Kevin, which resulted in more verbal harassment), and presently had them lined up at the hub like troops awaiting orders. Negan leaned against the support beam, somewhat in line with the others and yet not, amused at her bossing everyone around.  She had refused to tell them the purpose of the line-up, just muttering something about a “surprise” and giggling while she fiddled around boxes.

She wasn’t drunk, but she definitely wasn’t sober.  All the excitement had given her hiccups.

“Well, I need all your help for this part,” she said, swaying slightly.  “But BE CAREFUL.  Please don’t fall.  I’ll feel terrible.  And cry.” She dragged out a large plastic container, and popped open the lid.

Kevin peered in, “Water balloons?”

“DING DING DING!” she exclaimed.  “Well, ( _hic_ ) half a DING.  _Gasoline_  balloons.  As you can see, we got a pretty full house now, and gates are closed.  Walkers are jammed in now, and we kinda need to make some more space ( _hic_ ) for more of the bastards.  Time to fry ‘em!”

Snake lightly kicked the box, inspecting the contents suspiciously.  “So what after that?  Then we choke on the smoke from burning walker flesh?”

She weaved over to Snake, patting his cheek and slurring slightly.  “Oh Snakey, Snakey, Snakey, Snakey.  Why are you called Snakey, Snake?” He wordlessly lifted his sleeve, displaying a snake tattoo.  “Well.  THAT’S anti-climactic.  You should come ( _hic_ ) up with a better story. Something about fighting a snake.  Maybe it went towards your balls and you grabbed it bare-handed and- OH!  The smoke.  Yeah.  Well we can douse them and maybe go up to the roof once a good burn starts going?”

Kevin cut in, “I-I don’t know about this…it-it seems dangerous.”  Negan rolled his eyes, but Lucy beat him to the punch of ripping him a new one.

“Well, Professor Peepee Pants, if you are too ( _hic)_ AFRAID then you can go collect your vagina on your way back to the truck and pout.”  Kevin blushed, now getting shit from a stranger he just met.  Negan’s broke out into laughter, slapping Kevin on the shoulder heartily.

“She’s got you pegged there Kev!  Stay, or get the fuck outta here!” he hollered.  Negan threw an arm around Lucy, and growled into her ear, “You just got fifty per-fuckin’-cent hotter in my book, and I didn’t even think that was possible.”

Her already-pink face grew red.  She had been waffling whether the flirtation was genuinely because he found her attractive, or because he wanted something from her, probably her skills.  It was most likely something somewhere in between, but it still made her feel fluttery and stupid.  She had done little to impress anyone with her looks, but was thankful for the bath she took that morning.  Otherwise, they’d all be standing five feet away from her probably. But tonight, she was positively glowing at having new friends, even if half of them were grumpy.

Speaking of grumpy, even Dwight looked amused, tossing a balloon casually in his hand and feeling the weight slosh around.  Suddenly, Lucy’s eyes widened and she gasped.  “OH MY GOD.  Y’ALL.  I FORGOT ABOUT THE GUNS!”

They gave her a curious look while she hustled to one side, pulling out a few squirt guns wrapped in plastic bags.  They were massively ridiculous water guns, the kinds the rich kids got that poor kids eyed with envy as they got blasted.  “Well, I thought I’d be by myself, so I made a buncha different activities to stay entertained! But now you have options – pick your poison!  Grenade or assault rifle?”

Negan stepped forward, taking a water gun.  “Shit, doll, you thought of everything, didn’t you?”

She laughed, the sound dancing in the air.  “Well, all that practice with lesson-planning, I got used to thinking outside the box! Plan, plan  _(hic),_ plan.” she said, twirling past Negan towards the balloons.  He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Kevin and Snake also grabbed guns while Dwight made his way to the balloons.  He and Lucy rummaged around the top, trying to find the fattest balloons.

The group carefully got into position, fanning out along the walkways.  Lucy counted out, “On your mark, get set, GO!”

Balloons flew throw the air, splashing the undead below.  Negan walked the planks, spraying those the balloons missed, Kevin making  _pew pew pew_  noises at each target.  Once the herd looked sufficiently doused and sufficiently irritated at the new activity, the Molotovs were brought out.

Lucy handed them each one, and they spread out.  Kevin opted out, instead grabbing the vodka and Lucille (on Negan’s order, of course), and scurried to the roof.  After another countdown, the Molotovs were tossed with whooping and hollering, and the gang hustled through the walkways and made their way to the roof to watch the bonfire.  “Psycho Killer” by The Talking Heads switched over, causing Lucy to laugh.  She sang along, hiccupping occasionally until they reached the roof.

Lucy stood at the edge, observing the spreading fire.  “You know, once they catch the flame, it’s really quite nice.  I can only hear the music up here.”

Snake swigged a sip of beer from a can left on the roof. “It’s weird to think they used to be people.”

“Yeah…  Shit, now this feels even more fucked up,” she moaned, clutching her face.

“Aw shit, I didn’t mean it like that.” Snake bumped her with his elbow, his attempt at comfort.  “I mean, I get it.  They were people but now they aren’t, they are just…things that fuck shit up.”  Lucy grunted something vaguely like agreement.

Snake glanced over at Negan and saw a dark cloud over his bosses’ face.  He coughed uncomfortably and took a few steps away, appearing to check things out from another angle.

Negan moved closer to her, sensing her chill in the cold air, and put his jacket over her.  “Penny for your fuckin’ thoughts, doll.”

She clutched his jacket, smelling the leather and his scent on it.  “Thanks,” she smiled softly.  “I’m just thinking-“

“Always a dangerous fuckin’ thing, darlin’.”

“Shut up! You asked, jerk.  I’m just thinking.  About what you said.  About talking me out…”

He leaned in closer, putting his arm around her shoulders and squeezing.  “I sincerely hope you are having fuckin’ second thoughts about blasting off that pretty little head of yours.  It’d be a fuckin’ waste and a shame.”

She flinched at his bluntness, but made no further objection.  “If I was alone, I don’t think I would be.  But you guys being here…it drowns out the part of me that was pushing for this.”  She leaned her head into his shoulder, a hint of vanilla and lavender wafting into his nose.  This felt…  _nice_.  Dark, fucked up…but even while she reconsidered her grand plan, that voice was silent.  Distracted.  She closed her eyes and took a sip. They stood in silence for a moment, together watching the fire spread. 

Kevin suddenly belched, breaking the silence, then threw an empty can at Snake.  Snake turned around and pelted him back, beaning him right in the nose. Negan sighed, the vaguely peaceful mood ruined.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, gravely voice rumbling in his chest.  “Come back to Sanctuary with us, to our home.  If you haven’t changed your fuckin’ mind in the morning, I’ll drive you out here myself and risk getting my dick bit off by these fuckers.”

She rolled this thought around, considering the options.  If she left, it was over.  They both knew she wouldn’t be back.  She knew he was just offering that as an out, but by morning this place would be too overrun to get even close.  “Thank you.  I’m- just not sure.  Can I think about it?”

He sighed, “Listen doll, just because you sunk in a shitload of time and effort, doesn’t mean you are fuckin’ chained to it.  Plans change.  People change.  Let yourself change your fuckin’ mind if you want.  If you wanna live, then  _do it._  Tell that voice in your head to shut the fuck up.” He whispered in her ear, warm breath tickling her neck.  “ _Or I’ll shut it up for you.”_

/ / / / /

**AN:  As always, I appreciate any comments or feedback you may have! Negan is just a fun character to write (it's cathartic somehow to work out which swear words will be used when?) and I hope you are enjoying so far.  Lucy's definitely conflicted, feeling that "sunk cost fallacy" that she's sunk so much time and effort into this plan that she HAS to complete it, and now it's gone wonky.  If she bails, what if that's really what she wanted?  Or will she be perceived as a failure?  And there's that fear of connecting with new people, only to lose them, especially in this world.  Anyways, thanks for reading!**

**Take care, lovelies. Until next chapter... xo**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Flames flickered in the zig-zags of the maze, creating a hypnotizing glow of burning walkers and steel walls.  Acrid smoke drifted into the night sky, scattering a slight smell of burning flesh and gasoline.  It wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

Negan knew he had at least flipped Lucy from a hard “no” to a “maybe,” in regards to her grand plan.  He could work with maybe.  Maybe was just a non-committal version of yes, at least in his book.

Despite his confidence, his bones felt heavy, like anchors in the black sea.  All those nights of poor sleep, forged in chains, dragged behind him and tried to slow him down.  He was always full of a restless energy, chaotic and untamable. It had been less than a day since he came to this shitshow and he couldn’t tear himself away from this crazy ass situation.  _This crazy ass broad._ He knew Kev and Snake were counting down the minutes, waiting to leave, but this was a delicate art.  If he pushed her too much, she might give in but resent it deeply. Or worse- pull away, do something rash.  Finesse.

Negan knew crazy, he dealt with it every day.  Lucy may be a little crazy, but she was mostly too deep in grief.  Feelings of despair, sadness, guilt, and who know what else were pounding away in her head.  It was enough to make anyone want to die, if they were weary enough.  He knew she didn’t truly want to die, he knew from the second he saw that crazy-as-shit maze cobbled together, the meticulous effort made into creating something so intricate and damaging. She was just hurting.  He may not show it ever, especially around his men, but Negan knew hurt.  He could smell it from a mile away, festering.

He and Lucy stood watching the maze, watching the color of the flames dance and catch.  Every once in awhile Kevin would try to lob another gasoline balloon, sometimes hitting the fire and causing a poof of flames, but mostly missing.

Lucy broke from their relaxed embrace, and Negan found himself again watching her watching the walkers.  The blaze illuminated her face, added an eerie glow to her eyes.  An unnatural light- like an animal’s eyes reflecting in the darkness.

 _Creepy, but gorgeous._ Negan felt a familiar stirring in his groin, and shifted uncomfortably.  He had managed to control himself so far, avoiding his usual onslaught of innuendos and flirtations (kept only to a dull fucking roar), but he could only hold it together for so long. He wasn’t a fucking monster, but he did have a limit to his self-censoring.

 _Monster._  Flickers of memories, broken glass and broken hearts flooded his mind, but hit against the layers of steel he had built around his heart. Not the time, nor the place. Not here.

She glanced over and gave a soft smile when their eyes met.  Shit, they’d only known each other for a day and he wanted to unwrap her like a birthday present.  Was she a quiet moaner, a screamer, or something in between?  Quiet moaners were usually way more freaky-deaky than screamers… He hoped she bit her lip when she came, that was always so fucking hot.

Gravel crunching caught both of their attention.  They turned around to see Dwight.  “Hey, uh…we might have a problem.” He ran his head through his hair.

Negan instinctively reached for Lucille.  “Well, what the fuck kind of problem  _might_  we have?”

“There’s people coming – alive, not walkers.  A few trucks, look like military-type vehicles.  Snake saw them comin’ over the ridge and I checked them out in the night vision goggles.  The truck’s got some sort of symbol painted on the side. It was hard to see in the low light and the goggles. But they look pretty organized.”

“What the fuck kind of symbol? You recognize it?” Negan racked his brain on known factions in the area, but came up with nothing.

Dwight shrugged. “Some sort of a swirl thing. Looks kind of seashell I guess, based on what he said. We never seen it before.”

Lucy stepped forward, breathless.  She scratched something into the gravel.  “Does it look like this?”  Negan thought it did indeed look like a weird seashell.  _Stupid fucking symbol,_  he thought.

Dwight squinted at it and said, “Could be. Looks awful similar.”

She turned to Negan, white as a sheet. Panic flooded her eyes, causing a turn in Negan’s stomach. He hazarded she didn’t often get scared much.

She slid his jacket off and shoved it towards him, running towards the walkway. “You have to go.   _NOW!”_ she called out over her shoulder.

 _Oh no you don’t._   Negan turned to Dwight.  “Grab Kev and Snake, get the gate unlatched and start the truck.  If we aren’t there in five minutes,  _get the fuck back to Sanctuary_. Take a different route if it looks like they took our usual one.”  Dwight looked to protest, but thought better of it.  Instead, he nodded and ran over to the Kevin and Snake, who were currently fighting over holding the night vision goggles.

Negan turned back towards the maze, and started after Lucy.  He was  _not_  going to fucking lose her after all this goddamn work.

The smoke was thick and stung his eyes.  Up on the rooftop of the adjacent building, the smell had dissipated enough, but here, it was thick and concentrated. Burnt flesh was already an awful smell, but the rotting walkers added a special level of stomach-turning stench when they burned.  Negan pulled up his red bandana over his mouth to help block out some of the acrid smoke.  By the time he reached the hub, Lucy was already tossing things into bags, coughing heavily, despite the green bandana she’d tied around her own face.

She jumped when he grabbed her shoulder, looking like she was about to scold him, but instead shoved a bag into his arms.  “Here, your people can use these.  Medications and other useful stuff. I don’t even know why the hell I had these.” When he just stood there, she tried to push him towards the walkway. “ _GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!_ ”

Negan dropped the bag and turned her to face him.  Tears were streaming down her face, but if it was from smoke or emotion, he couldn’t say.   She was spooked, real bad, and that worried him, too. “Nothing here is worth your fuckin’ life or mine, darlin’.  You are gonna get your sweet ass to the truck and let’s fuckin’ GO.”

She stared at him for a moment, into his eyes as if she was reading his thoughts and intentions.  She looked around at her maze, the chaotic work of love and hate she poured so much energy into. The fire was still raging, smoke billowing out from every corner of the maze.  Negan grabbed her chin gently and had her face him, looking deeply into her sad, but beautiful eyes.  “You don’t want to fuckin’ die.   _I know you._  You don’t.”

Her eyes burned like the fire that raged around them as she shoved him away.  “FUCK YOU.  You don’t know  _shit_  about me.  We just met, you arrogant asshole.”    She glared at him, into his dark eyes. Eyes that pulled her in and drank her up. 

He leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms.  “Fine.  I’ll stay here with you then.”

“NO!”  She tried to push him back towards the railway, protesting to no avail.  This mountain wasn’t moving.  He was amused at her attempts to shove him.  “You sure you built this thing yourself with them skinny little arms?  That just fuckin’ tickles.”  It didn’t, and he was not surprised at her upper body strength, but antagonizing her was just about the only thing that would snap her out of this.

Hopefully.

Lucy furrowed her brow and punched his arm, hard.  When he just laughed (it actually did fucking hurt, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to let her know that), she sighed, defeated.

 _Gotcha,_ Negan thought.   _I know you.  You wouldn’t let someone else die._

Grabbing one last bag, she slipped her hand into his. “FINE.  Grab that bag you dropped, jerk.  Let’s go.”

/ / / / /

The caravan of cars was still headed towards the maze, their view of the Savior’s truck blocked by the halfway constructed building, for now.

Lucy and Negan piled into the truck cab with not a moment to spare. Snake peeled the truck out of the gates, taking out a few walkers for good measure and immediately headed in the opposite direction of the caravan on a side road that followed behind the maze.  Kevin and Dwight clung for dear life in the back of the truck, bumping and jostling along as they attempted to keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

Lucy sat in the middle of Snake and Negan, eyes wide, scanning the area.   _We are about to be in sight of the caravan_ , she thought wildly as they drove up a slightly graded road behind the abandoned mall.  She reached over Snake and flipped off the headlights.

“HEY!  You crazy bitch!” Snake protested.

Lucy slapped his hand away from flipping them back on.  “Shut up, shut UP.  Don’t turn the headlights on, it’s too noisy out there and they might not notice us over the walker herd. There’s enough light from the moon, we can see fine,” she lied. She flipped back around, eyes scanning the road behind them and gripping the seat so hard her hands were feeling numb.

Snake leaned forward a bit, and raised his eyebrows at Negan.

“Listen to the lady, don’t fuckin’ turn on the headlights, asshole,” Negan shrugged.  He didn’t like running away, but they certainly were not prepared for confrontation. They hadn’t heard from their outpost a few miles away, so these trucks had either gone a different way, or the outpost was in trouble.

“Take a left here, we gotta get behind those trees,” Lucy ordered. Snake sighed, but complied.

The truck slid left, slamming Kevin and Dwight into the side of the cab.  “FUCK,” one of them mumbled.

 _Shit, shit, shit,_ Lucy thought. _Did they find me? Do they know who I am?_   _Do they want revenge?_ All questions and no answers.

The truck continued to follow the road further into the woods, all eyes scanning the area.  No one said a word, the only sound an occasional walker slamming into the truck.

Snake finally broke the silence.  “They were takin’ the road we usually would back to Sanctuary, but I think we can take this and loop around if we’re careful.”  Negan grunted in agreement, deep in thought.

Lucy still sat backwards, peeking out of the back window of the truck.  She didn’t spy any headlights following them, but then again, their own headlights were off.

 _I owe them an explanation,_ she thought, the tension palpable in the truck.  Her panic had been enough to get their asses moving, but they were going to be asking questions soon enough.  She tried not to think about the heat radiating from Negan, the way grabbing his hand shot sparks through her body in a way long forgotten.  Her leg pressed against his, shoulders occasionally bumping with the movement of the truck. Her body tingled dully every time they touched, a sensation long-forgotten.

 _Definitely not the time for any of that nonsense._ She took a deep breath, pushing those thoughts away.

“That caravan- they call themselves The Order, a group of cultish assholes.  Their leader is some former academic professor, in mathematics or something.  Built a cult up around himself, with some plan to ‘cleanse the world’ and repopulate it with people of his choosing. He calls himself Typhon, after a creature in Greek mythology that tried to overthrow Zeus.  His followers call him ‘master’ though. Real creepy stuff, they’re all bonkers.  They installed themselves in an old army base and are armed to the teeth, apparently.  I ran into a handful of them a few seasons ago, maybe a year ago. Luckily that group wasn’t too bright.”

Negan snorted.  “Sounds like they got themselves wrapped up in a bunch of bullshit.  What the fuck do they want?”

“I don’t know.  I killed their men, though.  I don’t- I don’t _think_  they know it was me.  It was just a few of their men I had run across. It was so long ago…” She sighed and put her head in her hands.

“I’m gonna need a bit more than that, doll.  You sent us packing like bats outta fuckin’ hell.  You weren’t scared of us, but you sure as shit were scared of  _them._ ”

She sighed.   _You can’t keep running away from your demons, Lucy._  “They ran across me and… the last of my group in the woods west of here.” Her voice cracked.  “They… killed the others and took me.  To their outpost, a shitty old Department of Forestry outpost.  They did weird ritualistic shit and kept talkin’ about me like I was… a prize or some reward for Typhon.” She shivered. “It gave me the creeps. I had to leave before they transported me, who knows what they would have done for me.”

“Typhon. That’s a stupid fuckin’ name,” Negan said.  Lucy hid a smile.   _Negan ain’t exactly common, either._ She kept her mouth shut on that subject, though.

Lucy continued.  “They kept saying, ‘Mister Typhon will have  _fun_  with her’ or something like that.  Not any sort of fun that I would want to be a part of, I’m sure.”  She thought for a moment longer.  “I think they keep women at their base.   _Keep_ them.  Like prized heifers.  I was there at the outpost for…weeks…it felt like.  ‘Gettin’ you warmed up,’ they said.”

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Negan said.

She took a shaky breath.  “They did  _exactly_  what you think they did, and more to me.”  Hot tears welled up in her eyes, this time she let them flow.  A pang of queasiness made her turn forward, unable to handle facing backwards in the truck, and into the past. The alcohol, the chase, the jostling in the car was all too much.

“Motherfuckers!” said Snake, slapping the wheel.  “Boss, we gotta do something-“

“Shut the fuck up, Snake,” Negan said dangerously, cutting him off.

She glanced over at Negan.  It was hard to see, but his eyes looked black, a small sparkle in the moonlight gave him an eerie look.  Like a spider spinning a web.  He was tightening and relaxing his grip on Lucille, as if readying to crack into someone.

She cleared her throat and steadied her voice as they bounced along the road.  “I escaped.  They were cruel but they weren’t too terribly bright. I had to be careful because of their numbers.  I slit three of their throats while they slept and snuck out, waiting in the woods.  I heard the others scream when the dead ones turned.  I broke my own rule but I didn’t care.  I’ve been on my own ever since.”

Negan turned to her.  The close proximity made movement awkward, but he managed to place a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.  “Damn.  I’m sorry, doll, that shit’s fucked up.” She nodded, but offered nothing else. She had nothing else to give, anyway.

“Pull this shit over and let’s make sure no one’s fuckin’ following us,” he said to Snake.

The truck eased off the side of the road and rumbled to a stop. 

“What’s the rule you broke?” Negan asked Lucy. Dwight and Kevin jumped out of the back and took out a few walkers roaming towards the truck.

“What? Oh.  Just…it’s stupid.  It’s to never leave a walker around if I can do.  Never let someone turn if I can.  It’s stupid, but if I can easily take one out, it might save someone else from getting trapped or surprised by it later on.  Butterfly effect, and all that,” she shrugged.

“The fuck’s a butterfly effect?” Snake said, lighting a cigarette.

“It’s like an old saying or philosophy concept I guess. That a butterfly flapping it’s wings in Africa can cause rain somewhere else.  One small action somewhere can cause a cascade of events that leads to something completely unrelated, you know?”

Snake didn’t, but agreed as Dwight knocked on the window.

“All clear,” he said to Negan.

“Great,” said Snake. “I gotta take a piss anyways.”  He jumped out the truck, lightly jogging away from the rest of them.

Negan turned to Lucy.  “Listen here doll, you stay the fuck in here.  We’re going to make sure those shitbags aren’t followin’ us and I gotta talk to my men about what’s to come.”

She nodded, and Negan slid out of the truck, Lucille in tow.  Would they discuss dumping her, she wondered?

 _You’re too much trouble than you’re worth,_ said that goddamn annoying voice.   _You shouldn’t have made such a big fucking show, just killed yourself quietly in the woods._

“Shut UP.  It was your fucking idea!” she hissed.  Thank god she was alone in the truck.  Being around others was making her acutely aware that she was off her rocker, arguing with a bitter voice inside her.

It was otherwise a quiet night.  The moon provided a promise of light, illuminating the road just enough for everything to look sinister and foreboding.  But for the first time in a long time, a tiny bubble of hope replaced the constant pit of fear in Lucy’s stomach.

The muffled sound of the men talking nearby was like the low purr of an engine to a baby.  She curled up in the cab and closed her eyes, floating away into the dreamless sleep of the weary.

 

/ / / / /

Several miles away, a caravan of military trucks pulled over onto a hill overlooking the maze, overrun by hundreds of walkers.  The driver of one of the cars jumped out and ran around the side to open the door.  Out came one big, heavy boot, followed by the other.  A tall man, solid as a mountain and just as unmovable, clad in an all-black suit and an expensive looking hat, flicked cigar ash as he surveyed the area.  His eyes were black, with too much white around them, always menacing and slightly unhinged looking. He took a drag from his cigar and turned to the driver.

“You  _have_  confirmed they’ve left the area?”

The driver swallowed nervously.  “According to the scouts, they have.  A few men and a woman.”

Mister Typhon frowned.  “ _A few_ is not an exact figure.  Get me the figures and where they are headed.  Don’t kill the woman.  If the others fight well, they may be of use, but kill them if you must.” He stepped back into the vehicle and rolled the window down.  He pointed to the walkers with the butt of his cigar. “You may finish burning the lot of them, disgusting creatures that they are.  Once they are taken care of, I want that maze disassembled and brought back to base.”

Before the driver could finish his “Yes, SIR!” the window rolled up.    The inside of the cab was pitch black, except for the orangish-glow from the cigar.  The man gave a heavy sigh familiar to the privileged and highly intelligent, forced to interact with the ill-educated and frankly, stupid, everyday folks.

 _It’s so hard to get good help these days,_ he thought mournfully.

/ / / / /

**AN: Thanks to all the reviewers and new followers!  New developments, a more sinister threat now on the horizon... hope you all have had a good holiday season, whatever your beliefs.  Feel free to leave a review, let me know your thoughts!**

**Take care, lovelies!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The low hum of a foreign engine cut through the night air like a blade.  The Saviors were just about ready to load back up when Snake whistled and pointed to the road.  Negan used the night vision goggles to see a faraway truck without any headlights on, barreling down the roads towards them.

“Those fuckers are coming,” he growled.   _Time to shit or get off the fuckin’ pot._ “Alright, let’s do this shit!” Time began to slow down for him as plans began to formulate rapidly. Anytime shit hit the fan, Negan would feel the world shift, his brain click a little faster. When others panicked, he could keep cool as a cucumber, most of the time.

They had a few minutes, maybe less, before the truck would be on them.  It may pass them by unawares, but truth be told, they probably already knew they were there.

Negan acted quickly.  Despite their haste to leave the maze, Kevin had grabbed a forgotten box that never made its way into the maze. Abandoned by the stairwell, Kevin had nearly tripped over it and found its contents may prove useful.  _God fuckin’ bless that bumbling fucking idiot,_  Negan thought. A few spike strips protruded from the dusty cardboard, glistening dangerously in the moonlight.  Negan handed them to Snake and grabbed a rifle from the back of the truck.

He turned to Snake and Dwight, who listened eagerly. “Gimme the fuckin’ truck keys, Snake, and throw those strips in the road, up a-ways. Looks like they are driving in the middle of the fuckin’ road, so overlap them about where the tires should go. Then situate your fuckin’ self behind that barrier on the other side of the road. Dwight, you go with him but wait a good distance away. We can’t fuckin’ cluster.”  The pair nodded and grabbed the strips, darting in the road to carefully place them.  Negan unslung the rifle from his back and checked that it was loaded, as Kevin jogged over.

 Negan turned to Kevin, handing him the keys and Lucille. “We ain’t got fuckin’ time for you to drop these.  Kev- roll the fuckin’ truck down more into the embankment and tell the girl to hide in the woods and to keep fuckin’ quiet. DO NOT turn the goddamn engine on, put it in ‘Neutral.’  If anything- fuckin’ ANYTHING happens to Lucille, she will be drinkin’ your goddamn blood, I don’t give a shit if it is your fault or not. We clear?”  Kevin gulped and nodded, gingerly taking the baseball bat as if she were made of glass. “Then go crouch behind that car up the road and don’t do SHIT until I signal!”  Kevin scurried away towards the truck, praying he could remember all the instructions.  Negan heard a tired murmur as Kevin woke the girl –  _Lucy_ , then heard her scrambling quickly into the woods, indicating that his message was received.

_Don’t fuckin’ run on me now, beautiful._

He had more pressing problems then her, though. As per fucking usual, just when he was getting on a roll, shit pops off. The truck was less than a minute away now and gaining on them quickly.  Snake and Dwight were in position and Kevin had just finished shifting the truck into ‘Park’ after rolling it into a more hidden area.  Negan crouched along the embankment of the road, hoping the slope would block the intruder’s view from most of their activity.  He sprinted forward, following the side of the road, guessing the spike strips were hopefully somewhere behind him. It was dark as shit, and hard to tell, but all he could do was estimate. A burnt-out, overturned car provided convenient cover after he nearly crashed into it.

The truck hummed past him, the rumble low and muffled.  Negan estimated it to be going around 50-60 mph and –  _POP!_   Wheels hit the spike strips and squealed- the truck swerved, the driver unable to get control.  It took a hard turn, tires still screaming, and tumbled onto its side, flipping multiple times before slamming into the ditch opposite from Negan, several yards ahead. It was upside down, and even in the moonlight Negan could see the car was fucked.  The hazard lights flashed, making a steady  _tick-tick-tick_ sound. The impact points on the car looked like black voids, smashed and scraped from the broken asphalt roads.

_Fuckin’ Bingo._

A handful of walkers growled nearby, shuffling towards the wreck.  Broken glass shone in the blinking red and orange lights, like prisms of neon blood.  _Tick-tick-tick_. The lights seemed to welcome visitors, enticing viewers to the wreckage.

Negan waited, listening.  The damage to the car looked bad, but arguably not fatal.  He heard some movement from inside the vehicle.  The shifting of weight and some muffled shouting.  He gave a low whistle and moved forward, gun pointing towards the wreck.  Kevin and Snake appeared from the shadows and moved forward as well, flanking the sides of the overturned car.

As they approached cautiously, a halfway shattered window burst clear.  A man, battered and bloody, crawled out of the opening.  Shouting expletives to the darkness, he steadied himself on the car as he stood up and limped forward, blinded by blood and glass in his eyes.  He tripped over a crack in the asphalt and faceplanted with an unceremonious  _thud._

Kevin was closest and grabbed him by the scruff of his collar, dragging him away from the wreck as he weakly thrashed in protest. After a moment he simply went limp, whether from exhaustion or unconsciousness, they didn’t know. Negan said quietly, “Tie up that piece of shit and gag him. Throw him in the back of the fuckin’ truck when we’re done here.”

The walkers were closing in.  Negan’s heart was pounding and wished he had Lucille, but she just wasn’t practical at this particular moment.  He crouched down, aiming his gun carefully as he peered from a distance into the car. He counted two more heads visible in the flashing lights.  Neither one was moving.  He signaled to Snake, who crept in closer, rifle at the ready. Negan circled around to the opposite side of the vehicle, bashing an approaching walker in the head with the butt of the assault rifle. It collapsed instantly, skull crushed. He heard Snake deal with a similar situation, a rotting body made a weak  _thump_ to the ground. Dwight kept a watchful eye in between Kevin’s position and the overturned car, finger on the trigger.

Snake whistled again and beckoned Negan closer. The driver and passenger were both dead, the driver stirring in the early signs of turning.  Snake ducked in carefully to sweep the back of the car, and it appeared clear.  Negan let out the breath he realized he was holding.  Then after a moment, he laughed.

“Son-of-a-bitch!  Did you see that shit flip? Good job, Snakey-boy and Dwighty-boy, I’m proud as shit! GOOD fuckin’ work here.” He turned to inspect the vehicle, sizing up the damage.  “We’d best get out of here in case there’s another one lurkin’ around.  Grab the spike strips, I fuckin’ love those things, and do a quick sweep of the car, grab anything useful.  You got three fuckin’ minutes.”

He turned to their hostage, wide-eyed and gagged.

Negan smirked and arched into his trademark lean.  “Pissin’ your pants, yet?”  He leaned in closer, grabbing the man’s hair to wrench his head up, looking into his eyes and surveying the damage.  “FUCK.  Your face is FUCKED the shit UP! Hoo-boy, that is GAH-ROSS.  Did you know there is a fuckin’ piece of glass stickin’ out of your eyeball?  That must fuckin’ hurt!” He let go of the man’s head as he made a gurgle and blood oozed out of his mouth. “That’ll give anyone fuckin’ nightmares.”

He wiped his hand on the man’s military-esque jacket and smiled, even if the man could barely see.  “Excuse the shit out of me, by the way.  I’m Negan.  You’ll be comin’ with us.”

/ / / / /

 

These woods were not silent.  A few walkers roamed about, chasing after the noise from something going on in the road.  Unseen creatures chittered and twigs snapped underfoot.  Lucy listened and waited, waited and listened.  It was instinct, a comfortable skin she could easily slip into. She crouched on a study tree branch a safe height away from most danger.  This spot had revealed itself to her quickly after Kevin jolted her from sleep and shoved her out of the truck with a sheepish “Sorry!” In daylight, she would be a sitting duck here, but here at night she was invisible.  Listening and waiting, waiting and listening.

_Those trucks were following you._   Shit, shit, shit.  Why? How’d they know where she was?  She’d taken out a few measly perverts in an outpost. They hadn’t even radioed her in to their group, wanting to bring her in “as a surprise.”  But…maybe this wasn’t because of the outpost?  Maybe they had just noticed the gigantic death gauntlet she’d been working on for months and were curious, just like Negan and his men. It wasn’t a subtle creation.

_Negan._  She wondered if he was okay.  And grumpy Snake, sweet Kevin.  She barely knew them, really, but felt like she did know them somehow. They weren’t angels, that’s for sure, but they risked their lives in an attempt to save hers and now she had put them at risk.  She’d heard the truck crash and some muffled voices, but couldn’t tell who they came from.   _Friend or foe?_ Could she even tell yet if Negan and his men were one or the other?

_They will die like the others, and it will be your fault,_ that voice hissed.

“No,” she whispered.  “They are capable…they don’t need me to survive.  This is different.”

_Run.  Run away. They are dead or too busy to worry about you. No one cares about you, really._

Lucy turned this thought over in her head, over and over.  She could leave now and what- be alone again for who knows how long?  Running away as always? She was tired of running.  Tired of doubting herself, beating herself up over old hurts and old regrets.

_Alright.  If we make it out of here alive tonight, I’ll try again.  Try to be a part of something.  Shut that stupid voice up and tell it to shove-_

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar low whistle.

“It’s safe now, dollface,” said a familiar gruff voice, several yards away.  A flashlight lit the ground, dancing amongst the tree trunks and shrubbery. Heavy footsteps crunched leaves underfoot.  “Get your cute ass back here and let’s roll the fuck out.  I ain’t playin’ ‘Into the Fuckin’ Woods’ tonight, and neither are you.” Lucy smiled a little.  _I think they are friends. I want them to be._  The voice began to muster a protest, but she acted before it could.

She jumped down from the branch, attempting a graceful landing and only missing by a tiny bit. A sapling bush broke part of her fall. “Ooooof,” she grunted. “Shit.”

The light from Negan’s flashlight went wild for a moment as he jumped backwards.  She didn’t realize how close he had been and had dropped down quite close. “FUCK! Holy fuckin’ shit, you are creepy as shit droppin’ down like that!”  Apparently, he had also not been expecting her to take to the trees.  He chuckled as the light found her, legs in the air and stuck ass-first in the tangled branches of the bush.  He gave her a hand up and those sparks shot up her arm again.  “You alright?”

She dusted herself off and did a limb check.  “No worse for wear. I didn’t know what was going on and didn’t want a walker to sneak up on me from behind.”

Negan pulled some leaves from her hair, a cheeky smirk played at his lips. “That’s too bad.  I  _love_  sneakin’ up from  _behind.”_

“That one was a stretch,” Lucy snorted, but had no further retort and brushed past him, heading back to the truck.  Kevin was still scanning the area with the night-vision binoculars, and gave an “all-clear” thumbs up. Negan opened the passenger door for Lucy, giving her a little too much help to climb in than she needed.  He took driver’s seat after she settled in, leaving the rest in the back with the hostage.  He eased the truck back up onto the road, but before they got going he slammed the brakes on. Bodies and limbs slammed into each other with the forward jolt.

“LIMP DICK.  WHERE THE FUCK IS LUCILLE?” His voice boomed, nearly rattling the mirrors.

Lucy heard some nervous scrabbling (and a few “oh shit, oh shit’s”).  She suppressed a giggle and slid open the back window of the truck as Kevin threaded the baseball bat through, as if playing a dangerous game of Operation.  Negan slammed the window closed and scowled as he scrutinized every inch of the bat. 

“Negan, it’s pitch black outside, you couldn’t see any minor damage on her, anyways,” Lucy said in a low whisper, fighting back a smile.

“I know that, doll, but I gotta let him piss his pants a little more in antici-fuckin’-pation.”  He seemed satisfied and tucked Lucille beside him.  He floored it and they sped off, the occasional  _thunk_  (“OW!”) heard from Kevin in the back as they rattled along.

“Trust me, he don’t need any help in that respect, Mister ‘I’m So Big and Tough.’  He’s always about four seconds from pissin’ his pants, and you know it.”

Negan laughed, admitting it was true.  They sat in silence for a few minutes longer, before Lucy turned to say something.  Before she could even get any words out, Negan waved his hand in dismissal.

“Save it, dollface.  I don’t want your fuckin’ ‘ _sorry’s’_  and ‘ _you didn’t have to_.’ I knew the risk when I crossed over into your ‘Crazy-as-shit-land’ to see who the fuck you were. ‘Course I was more worried about my dick getting’ bit off by walkers than getting it blasted off by the fuckin’ Douchebag Brigade.”

Beat to her own punch, she relaxed a little and slumped down.  So far he seemed to know how her brain was ticking, even when she barely seemed to.  That somehow made it both easy and difficult to relax around him. Lucy yawned and looked at the stars out of the window. They were bright tonight, were there always that many in the sky?  A squabble between Snake and Kevin erupted from the back seat, before Dwight was heard ending it.

She twirled a piece of loose hair, looking out into the dark landscape.  “Well, thank you anyways, I guess. For everything.  I’m going to say it anyways, even if you don’t want it.”

“Oh, I didn’t say I wouldn’t take a ‘ _thank you,’_ darlin’.  In fact, I can think of at least twenty different ways you could  _thank me_  besides using just words…” Negan drifted off, smiling wickedly.

Lucy scoffed.  “Hah.  You wish.  I’m still crazy, you know, and that don’t rule out dick bitin’, if you get too fresh.”

Negan made an ‘owch’ sound as he shifted in his seat and they both laughed.  A comfortable silence settled in the truck, the occasional thunk heard from the back.  Lucy leaned against the window and stared out, watching the trees  _whoosh_   _whoosh whoosh_ past the window. 

“We’re nearly home, dollface.”

_Home._

/ / / / /

**AN: Bonus update, a little belated holiday gift! I will still update as per usual on Saturday as well, but just wanted to provide you all with a little something extra this week. :)**

**Take care lovelies!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_SLAM_.

Lucy jolted out of her almost-sleep haze.   _Oh god,_  she thought, as she wiped a little drool escaping from her mouth.   _Please, please, please, no one saw that._ Eyes bleary, she looked around to see little except darkness and dancing flashlight beams.  Behind the lights was the faint outline of a huge industrial building, a faint glow in a handful of windows.  Her eyes slowly adjusted and the image became sharper before a dark mass covered the window. The door she had been leaning (and drooling) on opened, and she nearly tumbled out in the process.

She was caught by large, warm arms.  “Whoa there, Sleepin’ fuckin’ Beauty.  You missed some drool or some shit right there.” He pointed to her cheek.   _Shit._   “Christ, don’t look at me like that, I’m just fuckin’ with you!” He leaned back, Lucille slung over his shoulder and broke out into a slow smile, barely visible in the fair light. “C’mon, let’s get the fuck inside.  Kevin went to grab some shit for you- some blankets and clean clothes and shit.”

It was late, well past midnight, Lucy estimated probably closer to 2 am or so.  The abandoned factory sat silent and eerie, except for a handful of patrols scuffling about. Every noise seemed to echo into the empty night. 

“You live here?” Lucy mumbled, following behind Negan’s looming frame as they walked towards a shot staircase leading to a steel door. It certainly lacked a warm and welcoming quality, but she supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Yep.  Home, sweet home.”

“How many people live here?” she asked.

“I’d say about 150 or so, give or take.”

“That  _many?_ ” Lucy was incredulous.  The communities she had stumbled upon had been no more than 10 to 15 people, and that seemed like a lot at the time.

Negan gave her a slow, crooked smile as he jerked the door open.  “You  _impressed_?” Lucy just shrugged, glad he couldn’t see her blushing in the dark. Something about him made her glad her grandmother wasn’t around. Negan could charm a parka off an Eskimo.

Negan dragged a drowsy Lucy along the hallways, Snake trailing behind making unimpressed grunts from time to time.  Dwight had escorted the hostage elsewhere, Lucy was positive she didn’t want to know where.   _Doesn’t seem like he’ll be given a hot bath and a warm meal,_  she thought as she eyed the barbed-wire wrapped around Lucille’s frame.

Negan hadn’t shown his darker side around her yet, but she could feel it lurking underneath, a viper waiting to strike.  He had mentioned several times earlier, before they fled the maze, about having multiple wives, waggling an eyebrow and suggesting she join them.  She was surprised at how not surprised she was that he had more than one wife. His appetite seemed…voracious. However, despite the initial teasing he had dropped the subject as the evening had progressed.   _What are they like?_  she wondered, then promptly shook the idea from her head.

Twisting down a hallway, they walked past a room with smoke billowing out from below the door and some muffled laughter burst out.  Negan turned back and grinned at Snake. “Shit! Poker night, you son-of-a-bitch!” He pulled a toothpick from his jacket pocket, feigning boredom. “You’re dismissed, go lose all your fuckin’ money to Skinny Joey.”

“Skinny Joey can’t play worth shit,” Snake grumbled, but obliged.  A cloud of smoke wafted into the hallway and drunken cheers erupted when he went into the room. Glasses clinked and someone dropped a glass, causing another burst of laughter.

Negan chuckled and leaned on the wall next to Lucy, looking into her sleepy eyes.  He licked his lips and purred, “Well. Alone at fuckin’ last, gorgeous. Your place or mine?”

She rolled her eyes but leaned back next to him on the wall, just far enough away.  As big of a flirt as he was, Negan seemed to sense that he should limit touching her too often, judging by how she flinched at the slightest touch.  It had been less than 24 hours, and there were too many thoughts, sensations, everything swirling around in her head.  It was…overwhelming.

_His men.  His people.  His home._

Suddenly, her eyes widened.  “Are you in charge of all this?  Of… Sanctuary, you called it?”

Negan smiled slowly and ran his tongue across his bottom lip.   “Shit yeah, I am. Why, dollface, you thinkin’ of sticking around?” He leaned in a little, eyebrow raised. “Gettin’  _fond_  of me?”

Lucy punched his arm lightly, the corners of her mouth twitching.  “You wish!  I was just…curious.  I don’t know what my plan is.  Things have…changed…very quickly over the past day.  I honestly don’t know.” She sighed and rested her head against the wall, eyes closed. “It’s overwhelming, to say the least. I don’t smoke, not often anyways, but a cigarette sounds really good right now.”

Negan held up a finger. “Hold that fuckin’ thought.”  He strode towards the poker room, more cheers erupting when he opened the door and shut it quietly behind him. A moment later he emerged, an expensive-looking pack of cigarettes dangling in one hand, a lighter in the next. “Ask, and you fuckin’ shall receive. Fuckin’ nasty habit though.”

Lucy laughed. “I won’t make it one, then.” He lit a cigarette for her, getting a little closer than he needed, but Lucy didn’t mind. She inhaled and felt the nicotine rush through her blood. Her mind cleared a little, thoughts shoving themselves into their respective boxes and storing themselves away. She held the cigarette out to him, a peace offering…or the sealing of a deal. He took a drag and handed it back.

Negan leaned back, lounging against the wall behind him. He finally broke the silence. “Well, princess, you don’t gotta  _stay_  here past tonight if you don’t fuckin’  _want_  to.  It sure would break my little heart, though, if you didn’t. “He thought a moment longer, realizing a lost opportunity.  “Actually…there ain’t anything  _little_  about me. We were just getting fuckin’  _acquainted_  and whatnot.”

“You just always have an innuendo at the ready, don’t you?” She held up her hand as a smile spread on his face.  “Wait, wait.  You’re ‘ _always at the ready’”_  she said, doing her best Negan impression, complete with a lean and eyebrows. She bit her lip and held back a laugh, the whole situation ridiculous.

Negan looked at her a moment, tongue in his cheek.  Then, he cracked into a smile. “You’re gettin’ awful fuckin’ sassy,  _missy_.  You better reel in that…sass in front of my men, or I’ll have to bend you over my knee and show you some  _discipline._ ”

Lucy rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the growing heat inside her. An awakening between her legs, a spreading sensation forgotten long ago.  _Push it down, not the time._  She coughed and handed him the cigarette. “Message received,  _Boss_.”

“That’s more like it!” Negan smiled and finished the cigarette, grinding it into the cement floor when finished. He almost left it there, then seemed to reconsider and picked it up, disposing of it in a nearby receptacle. Lucy held back a comment as he held out his hand. “Shall we fuckin’ continue with the tour, then?” She nodded and took his hand after a moment of hesitation. It was warm, and strong. Safe.

He strolled through winding hallways with her trailing behind, grunting out directions to places she almost instantly forgot.  Kitchen, canteen, restrooms, showers ( _Oh, thank GOD),_ library, it all flooded together.   _What if I get lost in here?_  she thought wildly. 

The further Negan led her through the suffocating hallways, the more her vision began to darken, pinpoints of light dancing in the center of her vision.  The air was so…stale.  So many people in here, breathing this air.  Her chest felt like a vice, each breath getting harder and harder to take.

There were too many people in here.  It was  _massive_.  So many hallways and rooms and people and nooks to be trapped in and corners for dark things to hide around.  Negan’s voice faded further and further away, until she finally tugged on his arm.  He steadied her as she swayed slightly.  “Shit, you look like…shit.  What’s the fuck’s wrong?”

He sounded a million miles away, but she could feel his strong grip on her arms.  “Can we go outside?” she gasped, “It’s just… I’m gonna pass out, I think.”

Her vision began to fade as Negan dragged her through a few doors.  Fresh, crisp air slapped her in the face.  Deep breaths.  Her vision cleared and she realized she was on all fours, gasping for air. Negan was patting her back awkwardly.  She took a deep breath, sat up and looked around.  They were on some sort of balcony with two doors opposite one another, with a view looking out over one side of Sanctuary.  Shadowy figures patrolled the perimeter, but otherwise the night was quiet.  It was peaceful up here.

Lucy’s brain suddenly snapped back into the moment.  “SHIT. I’m so sorry! I don’t- I don’t know what the hell that was,” she stammered. Negan pulled her up and placed his palm on her back to steady her.

Negan chuckled.  “Oh, you don’t?  Well, it’s my goddamn pleasure to introduce you to a fuckin’  _panic attack_ , dollface.  Never had one myself, I’ve got no fuckin’ reason to panic, but I’ve…seen ‘em before. Nasty little shit, isn’t it?”

Lucy nodded.  Her cheeks began to heat up as embarrassment began to creep in her belly.  She took a deep breath and smiled sheepishly.  “I think I gotta sleep outside.  I’m like a feral dog, I gotta get acclimated to being civilized again.”

Negan reached down and tilted her chin, his dark eyes boring into hers.  “You are  _not_  a fuckin’ feral dog.  You got some beach-ball sized lady nuts on you, I can see that from a fuckin’ mile away.  You got that?  Cut that shit out.”  He held her chin until she nodded slowly.  She wasn’t afraid, but his tone gave her pause.  It was firm, and meant business.

“Is there a roof or something I can get to?  Even here is fine as long as I’m not in anybody’s way.”

Negan surveyed the small balcony, his frame towering over her. He scowled and turned to her. “I’m not too fuckin’ keen on you sleeping outside… but I’ll  _allow_  it for now, if it keeps you around.  We’ll get you set up here out here with some blankets and shit, no one’ll bother you out here.” He looked at her for a moment in the pale light. “You look like shit, I’m ending the fuckin’ tour here.” Lucy had no objections.

He pointed to the door on her right.  “That door’s the one you fuckin’ use.  It goes into a storeroom that leads out to the hallway.  No one’ll bother you.  You can put your shit in the storeroom, I’ll have Kevin clean out something for you to use. I’ll even get you a  _spare_  key n’ you can lock it up if it’ll calm your tits. The door on the left you don’t bother with, it’s locks itself. Leave it the fuck alone.”  He stopped and looked at Lucy, who was now jiggling the doorknobs and peeking into the storeroom. “Hey. I don’t wanna fuckin’ wake up to you havin’ jumped or rolled or fell the fuck from this balcony.  We clear?”

Lucy nodded. “Crystal.”

“You look like shit, I feel like shit, it’s been a long fuckin’ night.  Sit tight and Kevin’ll be up in a few.”  They stopped and stared at one another, a brief awkward moment.

“Alright.  G’night Negan.  Thanks… for everything,” Lucy said softly.

“Good night, darlin’.”  Negan turned to leave her on the balcony, halfway through the door before he stopped and laughed. “It’s been a helluva fuckin’ day!”

 

/ / / / /

 

The hallways leading to Negan’s office were quiet, his footsteps sounded like thunder bouncing off the walls. When Negan clicked the office door shut, movement on his sofa caused him to tighten his grip on Lucille, heartbeat quickening. But, it was just Amber stirring sleepily, tangled in a blanket. An empty glass of wine sat on the table next to her.

_Great. Just what I want to fucking deal with,_ Negan thought.

She rolled over, rubbing her eyes and saw Negan sliding his jacket off, placing Lucille in her usual chair.  “Hey,” she said softly, “I accidentally fell asleep waitin’ for you.”  She leaned up on her elbows and smiled seductively.  “I hear you brought home a stray kitten… is she gonna come and play with the rest of us?” She stifled a yawn.

Negan sat down beside her, unlacing his boots.  “No, honey.  Listen, I’m fuckin’ tired tonight.  Why don’t you scram, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright?  It’s been a long fuckin’ night.”

Amber pushed out her bottom lip slightly and frowned, but said nothing.  She leaned over, exposing her cleavage to Negan as she helped unlace his other boot.  When she’d finished, her hand grazed over his thigh, tracing up towards his groin. He felt an involuntary stirring and pushed her hand away. She pouted again but persisted, desperate to clear the tension that had been brewing for weeks. “Well, you can be tired, baby, I’ll do allllll the work.”  She straightened up, and pointed her thumb at the bar. “You want a drink?  I’ll make you up something.”

He smiled and traced her cheek with his thumb.  _Let her relax, ease her anxiety, otherwise she’ll be here all fucking night trying to suck the anger out of your dick._  “No honey, you get on out of here.  I’m fuckin’ tired.  I’m sorry I’ve been an extra prick to you these past few weeks. Why don’t you go on back and get some sleep, yourself. I’ll be by sometime later.”

“Are you suuuuure?” Amber teased, tracing his chest lightly with her finger.  Negan closed his eyes for a moment, and Amber realized she had pushed too far.

“Amber, get the fuck out of here,” he said in a low tone, treading each word carefully as if it was an exploded bomb.  She slid off the sofa and dashed out the room, rabbit-eyed and afraid. She’d forgotten her shoes, abandoned under the coffee table. Negan sighed and placed them outside his office door, in case she’d be bolder later and try to come get them.

Once inside, he finished pulling off his boots, tossing them haphazardly out of the way.   _Fuckin’ back aches, shoulder aches, head fuckin’ aches, FUCK,_ he thought, peeling off his clothes in a messy line leading into his bedroom. 

The mirror in the bathroom showed a man, a tired-as-shit man, before steam fogged his face into a blur.  He was almost always bouncing full of energy, but occasionally he did run out of batteries and just needed everyone to stay the fuck away.  Tonight, he was drained.  Amber had just been trying to help, to say sorry in her own way.  Just the thought of her tonight made his skin crawl, though, her dead eyes and fake smile trying to reassure her place in the world. His world.

_It’s all bullshit,_ he thought as he stepped into the shower.  Steam filled the room and felt like they were cleaning every pore, every cell in his body.  He put his head down under the shower jet, letting water roll down his neck.

Something wasn’t right about those men that called themselves The Order.  He felt a buzzing in his head, a bizarre feeling that the steam and heat from the shower wouldn’t fix.  He poked at it a little, exploring the thought before it fleeted away.  Suddenly his eyes shot open.

It was  _fear._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_The earth smelled bad, sickly sweet yet…rotten, like death. Wet dirt, not quite mud, squished between her toes and made her gag, but she had to keep going forward. It was so dark. She tripped over roots, they seemed to move underneath her feet. Sap oozed out of the trees, the dark rust color of old blood. Smelled like it too, metallic copper that burned her nostrils and made her stomach turn. Something pulled her forward, urging, calling. She came to a clearing in the trees, dimly illuminated by moonlight. The moon itself looked wrong. It was too close, like a watchful predator's eye, gauging her every move. It was a sickly yellow-orange, like it was infected._

_There were figures in the clearing._

_Three children were on their knees, facing away from her. Their hands were pinned behind their backs, wrapped tightly with gnarled roots that reached up from the ground. The children were struggling weakly, tired and afraid, but the roots tightened around their tiny wrists the more they struggled. She trembled, stepping slowly closer. Too afraid but unable to stop. It was silent, except for the panicked breaths of the children, and the odd crackling of the roots. She had to keep going forward. She got close enough to touch the middle child's shoulder, but she couldn't. His flesh was so white, too white, his blue veins like angry rivers cutting through snow._

_He struggled and turned towards Lucy. She stumbled backwards, trying to scream but no voice could be found, just her mouth trying to work as panic bubbled in her belly. His throat had been cut, the rust-sap trickling down his chin, his collarbone. He had no eyes. When he opened his mouth, there was only blackness inside._

_"Youuuu didddd thiiiiisssss…" he wheezed. He struggled harder, trying to move towards her. The other two children turned their heads to face her as well, eyeless with cut throats._

_"Youuuu kiiiilllledddd ussssss…" they said together._

_Lucy tried to stand up and run, but as she lay stunned, the roots had wrapped themselves around her ankles, traveling up her calves, snaking up her thighs. Unable to scream, unable to move, she was dragged down, down into the death-earth, down into darkness below._

Lucy jolted upright, scattering blankets and her flashlight across the balcony. Something clattered over the edge, plinking against metal railings on its way down. Sunlight blasted her in the eyes when she pulled off a sleep mask Kevin had brought last night (or was it technically this morning?), creating a white haze as her pupils adjusted. She was covered in sweat, still gasping for air, blinded by spotted white lights, heart pounding.

It was just another morning, really. Well, she was slightly more hungover than usual. The dream in the woods always came, whether sleep came through pills, alcohol, or simply exhaustion. Lucy sat in a daze, piecing together the basics of who she was, where she was, and what she was doing. As the pieces fell together, she scrunched her nose and looked around, blinking to adjust her eyes to daylight. The sun had been out for a few hours, she estimated the time around eight or nine in the morning, and it was already getting hot outside. It was the longest she had been able to sleep, undisturbed by outside forces, in a very long time. It felt better and worse, simultaneously.

She peeked over the balcony and saw people milling around, drinking coffee and getting started with their day.  _Coffee!_ Her heart soared at the sound of their chatter, a sound she never realized she missed until she had heard it again. She felt that awful voice trying to tell her how little she deserved to feel happy, but she shoved it into a corner of her mind.

"Not today. I'll shut you up, just you wait," she whispered.

The little balcony was surprisingly cozy. Kevin had burst through the doors last night, barely able to see over the sleeping cot and bag, pillow, lantern, toiletries and clothes piled in his arms. Negan had resurfaced to give her a spare door key as Kevin helped her set up, grumbling about freeloaders and disappearing just as quickly as he appeared. She tidied up her little nook, rolling up her bed-things to tuck into the storeroom. She didn't know if she was going to stay.  _Best not get too attached._  She was a ship without an anchor, cast adrift with no direction. But she was here now, might as well make the best of the situation and figure the rest out later.

_I suppose it's time to go join the living._

Kevin had brought her a set of fresh clothes, surprisingly good choices that didn't look matronly or immodest. She lifted a lacey set of bra and panties with her pinky, raising an eyebrow.  _I doubt this was Kevin's doing_ , she chuckled to herself. Sure enough, unceremoniously shoved into a pair of black pants was a smushed (but unopened) pack of very average cotton panties and two plain-colored bras, functional without frills.  _Did Kevin add these before or after those lacey things stowed away in this bundle?_ The mystery of the day. She might even ask him, but feared he would just melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

Speaking of which, she needed to pee and she needed a shower. Desperately, on both accounts. She headed through the storeroom door, locked the entrance to her balcony and slid the key under a nearby box that coated in dust. She opened the storeroom door to the hallway, only to be met by a very startled-looking Kevin, who had been picking at a wayward thread on his shirt.

"OH! Hey. Uh, yeah. I'm s'pposed to… give you the ropes, show you a tour. Wait, no- I fucked that up. Give you a tour, show you the ropes. Orders from the boss." He grinned sheepishly.

"Alright…I gotta use the commode though, and really need a shower," Lucy said, shifting around the armful of items she was balancing. A pair of the cotton underwear dropped to the floor and she quickly snatched them up.

Kevin blushed heavily. Lucy placed him in his mid-to-late twenties, same as her, but he had the worry lines of an old man, and an unkempt stubble that tried desperately to be a beard. His blondish hair was always standing to attention, despite him constantly running his fingers through his hair nervously. Paired with his always startled looking eyes, he always looked like he'd recently been electrocuted. His constant jitters and fidgeting certainly didn't help argue against the case.

Kevin cleared his throat as they headed towards the stairs. "Uh, yeah. There aren't showers on this floor, not for-uh, ladies. We'll go downstairs. I'll, uh…wait nearby. But not  _too_  nearby. Not in a creepy way. A respectful nearby." Lucy had learned, through her limited experience with him, that trying to get Kevin to relax usually just made him even more nervous. It was easier to just roll with it, and maybe he would settle down in his own time. He certainly seemed less like a deer in headlights when Negan wasn't around. Lucy didn't blame him, Negan made her feel all kinds of things when he was around…

Ten minutes later, she was praying to the shower gods and thanking them for the religious experience she was currently having underneath the sweet, sweet water pressure. The cold water made no difference, it was still  _glorious_. The healing power of washing away grime, dirt, blood, aches, and sorrows was intense. She had only been able to take a few showers since the collapse, mainly taking to jumping in rivers to clean off, the occasional tepid bath like the farmhouse, when she could find someplace that was off the grid. When that wasn't an option, a quick wipe down was the only other option, which never seemed satisfying.

_How on Earth could Negan call me 'gorgeous' when I was so gross? Probably out of irony…_

Despite the bath she had taken at the abandoned farmhouse, the shower could get into all the nooks and crannies and more. She could lather, rinse, AND repeat if she so desired, only mildly aware that Kevin was probably impatiently waiting, picking at that loose thread on his shirt.

 _Maybe it turned into a crop-top by now,_ she thought, suppressing a giggle.

She emerged from the showers with fresh clothes, brushed (and flossed!) teeth, feeling like a new woman. She hummed dreamily, a small smile on her lips, as she patted her hair dry with a starched towel. It was still stifling to be inside, but when she had a purpose it was much easier to shove down the claustrophobia.

Kevin was sleeping in a rickety folding chair, his mouth hanging open as his neck lolled awkwardly. She touched his shoulder and softly called his name. Despite the gentle touch, he jerked awake, nearly decking her in the spastic movement.

"WHASSAT? Hum. Oh, hey! Sorry – must've dozed off. Hey, you look way better! Shit. Not that you didn't before. You just looked- you know…shit. Sorry. Like everyone else that comes from the outside, I mean. Like you need a good shower and a good sleep. Shit. Sorry."

Lucy smiled. "Well, I've had both, now. A good sleep and a good shower." Sleep hadn't been that good, but it wasn't worth it to mention to Kevin. She patted his shoulder and used the recently abandoned chair to lace up her boots. "Thanks for waiting – I really needed that. REALLY needed it," she laughed. "Can we start the real tour now?"

Ten overwhelming minutes later, Lucy found herself unable to comprehend the sheer amount of people and  _stuff_  they'd just swept through.

"Aaaaaand this here's the main floor." Kevin made a wide gesture, as if showing off a grand display. "There's showers every few floors (but restrooms are every other floor), ladies on the uhhh..third and fifth and gents on the ground floor and eighth floor. Ninth floor is generally off limits for the usual riff-raff, 'cept for you, I suppose. Mainly Negan's quarters and his wives. And your balcony."  _So, he really does have multiple wives_ , Lucy thought. It wasn't really any of her business, she just met the guy, but it left an odd taste in her mouth. Bitter. She shook the thought away, it was ridiculous to be petty and jealous.

Kevin shot an odd look at her current scowl, vaguely wondering if his tour was not as exciting as he'd hoped, but nonetheless continued. "Alrighty. Here's the canteen- cafeteria, whatever. Everyone calls it somethin' different." Lucy and Kevin walked through a door and arrived at a large cafeteria, metal tables and plastic chairs lined up neatly. By now, it was fairly empty and being cleaned by tired-faced workers, wiping countertops and pushing mops.

He led her through quickly, rattling off information like a well-seasoned museum docent. "Breakfast is served at eight, so we just missed service, but they usually leave out some leftovers for stragglers. Might be cold, but it's food, I guess. Negan don't like waste. There's almost always hot coffee, though, I don't think we'd get much done if we didn't have it. We got more tea than we know what to do with, if that's your thing." A pretty young woman emerged from the kitchen to clear a few remaining plates, and Kevin nearly tripped over a chair as he watched her. "Hey Becca," he choked out and waved at the woman, but she didn't hear him and turned back to the kitchen with full arms. Kevin turned back and noticed Lucy's raised eyebrow. He coughed and continued as if the brief interruption hadn't happened.

"Lunch is your own business, either purchase goods or save some leftovers. We get jerky sometimes from one of the settlements, it keeps for a bit. Dinner is served at seven…gives the gents- and ladies I suppose too, enough time to clean up before draggin' their sorry asses back here. The kitchen gals complained about all the muddy boots and dust they was bringin' in." Kevin quickly glanced down at his own boots and realized the dried dirt trail he had made. "Whoops. Shit. Let's get outta here before I get hollered at. Red Meg can throw pans with pretty good aim."

"Red Meg?"

"Yeah, we got a few Megs here. Red Meg, uh, has red hair, and her face is red half the time from how fuckin' hot the kitchen gets. Hot temper too, and she could knock out most any of the guys here. Don't call her that to her face, she hates it."

Kevin led them to a small hallway off the kitchen. "Rec room is through there, it ain't used too much, though. Board games, cards, puzzles and stuff are mainly in there. Most people are too tired by the end of the day, most of the times it's used by Joanie, she's our teacher and kid-watcher, I guess. She and the kids use it for crafts n' shit. Sometimes ladies use it for card games, the guys usually have their poker games upstairs." His eyes brightened. "Sometimes we get a movie night in there, but usually it's for the kids, something appropriate for them or some shit. Negan don't like the adults to be idle too much. Says it causes trouble."

 _Children? Alive?_ "How many children are here?" Lucy asked. Her heart was pounding, her hands a little damp from anxious sweat.

Kevin scratched his scraggly beard in thought. "Mmmm. Mebbe a dozen or so? Probably a little less. There's a little classroom down the hall there that Joanie uses for the kids. They got little desks and cubbies and shit. We're always s'pposed to be on the lookout for classroom shit, whatever that means. 'Children are the future' or whatever. Alright, let's head out to the market. We're nearly done."

Lucy looked back and noticed a door covered in paper leaves, little names scrawled on them. A flood of memories threatened to spill over. She closed her eyes and shoved it down, the memories and fear.

Kevin shoved open the double doors in the hallway, and Lucy was suddenly overwhelmed by a clamor of noise and activity. The market was in a vast warehouse, the ceiling several stories above, with doors open to the outside. People seemed to filter in and out, and it was bustling with activity. A few pigeons fluttered around in the rafters, strutting along beams as if mimicking (honoring?) the swaggering walk of the Sanctuary leader. Kiosks full of goods and wares littered the area, and dozens of people darted around making their quick errands before starting their day. Lucy felt suspicious eyes on her, scrutinizing and judging, but they quickly lost interest.  _It's just Kevin,_ they seemed to say.  _Kevin and some woman._

A man with smudged glasses was tucked away in the corner, ledgers stacked up as he hastily scribbled in each one. Kevin jerked a thumb towards the little man. "The Accountant. I don't know if anyone remembers what his name is, really. Negan does, probably. He keeps track of everyone's points and keeps all the ledgers up to date so's that the sellers know how much everyone's got."

"Points?" Lucy asked.

Kevin led her through, walking backwards and avoiding obstacles with a surprising grace. Lucy thought he was born to give tours, it was the only time he seemed to not stumble over himself, except when he saw the pretty kitchen girl. "We don't have currency here, no sir. Worthless, anyhow. Instead we got points. You earn points to your name and you use points to buy shit. Cafeteria food don't cost points, Negan ain't stupid. Gotta keep people fed or they'll revolt. But everything extra'll cost ya. Most people that ain't…hostages…get a free set of clothes, depending on supplies maybe a toothbrush or other shit like that when they get here, but that's about it. Better or riskier jobs earn you more points. Running a shop earns points too, but not much. They mainly get access to discounted shit."

He coughed up some phlegm and spat it on the concrete floor nearby. A nearby shopkeeper, a woman with graying hair and a sour face, glared at him but said nothing. "The shopkeepers here keep track o' points in their ledgers, then at the end of the day it all gets tallied up by 'The Accountant' you saw over there." Kevin made air-quotes and rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Some nerdy fella that did numbers and shit before. He drives Negan crazy. But Negan used to be the one to do it every night 'cause he didn't trust no one else to do it, so he's grateful for the help, I guess. What's he say? 'Necessary evils' or some shit. The Accountant ain't the most exciting to talk to, especially when he meets with Negan about the current state of affairs. Had to sit in on one of those meetings and I was bored to tears."

Lucy thought of Negan in glasses with tons of papers flying around, a calculator with tape overflowing to the ground as he tallied. It was easier to picture him lighting the papers on fire and laughing, like they did together watching the walkers pick their way through the maze.  _What did he do before all this?_ She wondered.

Two children chasing each other and shrieking darted past, nearly slamming into Lucy but instinct kicked in and she artfully dodged them. "Sorry!" one hollered over their shoulder as they ran inside.

"Do people get to pick their job or are they assigned?" she asked, sidestepping an older woman chasing after the shrieking kids.

"Bit o' both really. Just depends. If they was people that tried to fuck with us, they get put in the shit jobs. If you step outta line, you might get put in a shit job…if you're lucky. Just like anywhere I s'ppose, if you got useful skills then you are good as gold. People get put where we need ya. Well, sometimes. Sometimes it's where Negan  _wants_  ya."

She nodded. The system seemed harsh, totalitarian, but there was a logic to it. Negan didn't seem the type to be giving away things for free out of the kindness of his heart, so it didn't seem out of character to make his people work for it. There were so many people here, it was probably tough to supply. The adults had tired faces, empty eyes, but the few children she saw had bright, lively faces.  _We weren't meant to live in a world like this,_ she thought sadly.

Suddenly a thought jumped into her head and she turned to Kevin. "What's my job?"

He chuckled. "Don't rightly know, missy. I just got told you show you around, then introduce you to Dr. Smartypants. Are you stayin' here? Shit, I wasn't too sure of that."

Lucy shrugged, honestly not sure either. She noticed Kevin had been much more relaxed once they started the tour, he seemed comfortable and wasn't stumbling over each word like a newborn fawn discovering its legs.

"Well, if you do, just know what you're gettin' into, I suppose. Life here ain't easy, but we're safe n' shit for the most part. Negan likes useful people. He likes you. Shit- don't say that I said that. I can just tell, he's softer with you. Just follow the rules and everything'll be roses."

They reached another set of doors that led to an asphalt yard outside. A group of Saviors fiddled on a car and shit-talked one another, a few others were hauling lumber or scrap metal around. Some patrols were scattered around, looking at the surrounding landscape with binoculars. It was…oddly normal, for this world at least.

A large workshop stood on one end of the yard, near the front gate. A dark-haired man with a mullet stood outside, picking through some building materials that were piled outside and making marks on a notepad. He glanced up and noticed the pair approaching and watched placidly, his expression never changing.

After Kevin made introductions (and explained it was at Negan's request), Lucy quickly realized this was the Dr. Smartypants that the Saviors referred to.

"Well, I suppose there is no time like the present," Eugene said monotonously, shaking hands with Lucy. "Shall I provide you a tour of the facilities that I have been assigned to occupy myself in?"

Lucy nodded, trying hard not to giggle at Eugene's manner of speech. The workshop had a garage access for vehicles, a few of which were parked to the side in various states of disarray. Benches were full of boxes of various hardware and equipment, labeled with precise, neat lettering. Although it was full, it was meticulously organized in some sort of system that only the organizer could make sense of.

"What are you currently working on?" Lucy asked, as they finished the tour near a bench with stacks of blueprints.

Eugene spoke as he sifted through boxes. "Well, I have been primarily assigned to bring a former bullet factory to a functional status. However, I currently lack the required materials to make said bullets- materials which are being acquired as we speak by Savior supply runs. In the meantime, in order to make myself useful and contribute to the Sanctuary, I have been analyzing how to best reinforce sections of the west fence. The fencing there has been more worn down and battered by walkers then other areas, on account of more populous areas are located west of here, driving them first to that fence."

The pair of visitors were silent, digesting the torrent of words that Eugene unleashed. Kevin finally chuckled. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, Doc. Hasn't anyone ever told you to use less fuckin' words to say the same shit?"

Eugene sighed and shifted some papers around, as if he was too busy to answer such questions. "I have been accused by many by the length of my speech, but I find it near impossible to bring it down to an acceptable level. Therefore, I maintain my current status and hope for the best, I suppose."

He turned to Lucy. "I am not usually sent new recruits, so you must be the creator of the walker maze. There was talk here this morning about it that I was privy to. I am Sanctuary's Chief Engineer, a position which I now know takes an impressive amount of time and effort under immense pressure and scrutiny. I assume Negan has sent you to be of use to my projects."

"She went to school for engineering or some shit," Kevin said, shrugging. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, entirely out of his league. He gentle kicked a nearby box and pretended to scrutinize the contents.

Eugene offered him much needed relief. "Thank you for your service in bringing the new recruit here. You are dismissed and may return to your duties. Should Negan require either of our services, please inform him of our location."

Kevin stared for a moment, then turned to Lucy and shrugged. "Alright. I'll tell Negan where you guys are, if he asks. Good luck, I guess."

Lucy smiled, and shook his hand. "Thanks for the tour, it was…enlightening. You should really consider it full-time!" Kevin laughed and clamored out of the workshop.

Eugene turned back to Lucy, a glimmer in his eyes. "You have useful skills, no doubt about it. You will be a valuable contributing member to my little one-man operation I have here. Maybe I can even get you the title Assistant to the Chief Engineer."

Lucy smiled at her new co-worker (or boss…she wasn't clear yet on the dynamics here). "Not Assistant Chief Engineer?" Eugene's face flickered a hint of annoyance, missing her reference to an old TV show. "Oh- don't worry, It was a joke… I don't need a title. I don't care for one, even."

She glanced around the workshop at all the materials, possibilities flooding her head. Yes, she could be useful here.

"Alright, Eugene…shall we get started?"

/ / / / /

****Updated to fix formatting issues****

**AN: A Lucy-heavy chapter, but a little break from the constant excitement. What are your thoughts on Kevin? He started off as just a brief mention in Chapter 1 as a contrast to Negan and wasn't going to make another appearance really, but as the story progressed I found that he is so much fun to write, and a good foil to play other characters off of. Happy New Year to all, let's make it a great one!**

**Take care lovelies xoxox.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

“The FUCK you mean ‘you don’t know’?” Negan said, his tone low and dangerous.

He had sequestered himself in his office with Arat and Simon, two of his ‘inner circle’ within the Saviors.   Arat was twirling a knife, deep in thought, as she perched on the edge of Negan’s desk.  Simon was generally his right-hand man, recently returned from supervising Hilltop, one of the more successful settlements that Negan “oversaw.”  Handwritten reports scattered across his desk, containing various levels of bullshit.

Arat cleared her throat.  “We’re trying to gather intel, but reports are varying. All we know so far is that three outposts got hit.  No casualties, minor injuries.  After the reports came in, it looked like they all happened around the same time, at night.  Maybe a day or two before the supply run at the armory.  Communications were damaged in two of the outposts and they only just now were able to report in.”

Negan paced the room, flexing his gloved hands in irritation.  “They get a fuckin’ look at who it was?”

Simon and Arat shared a quick look, and Simon spoke.  “Nothing we can use.  They spray painted a symbol on the ground before they left, some weird-looking swirl thing.  Jimbo from the Springfield outpost copied it down, he’ll send it back with the men I sent out there.”

Negan froze.   _A weird-looking swirl- like a seashell?_  He thought of the symbol Lucy had scratched into the gravel, the symbol painted on the side of the car they encountered.

If the outposts were hit _before_ they came across the maze and met Lucy… was _he_ the target instead?  Lucy seemed to think they were after her, but if they weren’t even aware that she murdered their men… who was the real target?

Negan grunted and turned around, looking at huge map pinned to the wall.  Heavy black dots in marker indicated his outposts, green dots were settlements.  He stuck three red pins in the outposts that were hit.  He took a step back, observing the map as a whole.

“These are the most western outposts we got.  We haven’t had enough time or supplies to build them the fuck up yet to be formidable, mainly just a handful of assholes keeping an eye out on the area.”  He located the next closest outposts on the map.  “We’ll need to beef up those posts. Were they hit at night?”

Arat nodded.  “If they wanted to obliterate the outpost, they could have,” said Arat, leaning forward.  She flipped her knife open and closed, then jabbed it into a nearby paper in irritation.  “This was a warning.  That symbol- was a warning.  They _wanted_ our guys to be able to report back.”

Negan frowned and reached for Lucille.  His security blanket, of sorts.  He tapped Lucille impatiently on the ground as he thought.  Arat was right.

“Alright, here’s what’s the fuck is going to happen.  Arat, you gather five more men-no, six more men.  I want two more men near each outpost, but not AT the goddamn outpost.  Watching, patrolling, but sneaky as shit.  _Stealth_ is the fuckin’ key word.  I want you to make sure they’re all set the fuck up.”  He thought another moment.  “Bring Daryl, the asshole from Rick’s group, to show them how to fuckin’ cover their tracks.  Tell him if he puts one toe out of line, I will drive into Rick the Prick’s and shoot his baby girl right in the fuckin’ face.  When they’re all situated, you and Daryl get the fuck back here.”

Arat nodded, but her jaw was tense and eyes betrayed worry.  Negan put a hand on her shoulder, and shook her gently, as if to loosen her up.  “Christ, lighten up.  I’m not going to kill a fuckin’ _baby_ , Arat.  I’m not a fuckin’ _monster_.”   _Lies._  “Just put the goddamn fear in him that I will.”

“Alright, boss.”  Arat jumped up to leave, but turned in the doorway.  “Hey, The Accountant wanted to go over shit with you.  He said he’d be up shortly.  Maybe have a drink first, before he gets here.”

Negan groaned and dismissed them both with a wave.  “Fuck.   _Fine_.  Send in the egghead if you see him on the way. Send word for any shit that don’t look right.”  He complied with Arat’s suggestion, taking a quick shot of whiskey to settle down his boundless energy.   _Remember, he’s doing a job for you that you fucking hated to do,_ he reminded himself.

A few minutes later, a short, balding man with watery eyes and smudged glasses shuffled in, arms full of ledgers and papers.  He gave an awkward bow, as if greeting a king.

“Good morning, sir.  Thank you very much for seeing me, sir.  I’ve got some _exciting_ figures to review with you, I think you’ll be _very_ interested.”

Negan doubted it.  Charles, also known as “The Accountant,” found excitement in numbers and graphs that would put anyone else to sleep.  They were Negan’s most dreaded meetings, but passing off points-tracking was a beautiful day for him, and to find someone that found joy in it was a cherry on top.  He’d pay his penance of droning in order to never fucking touch those ledgers again.  Although, despite the droning, Charles’ formality in each situation always amused Negan.  If he ever grew bored of numbers (Negan doubted it, he probably jerked it to pie charts and graphs), Charles would be assigned as Negan’s butler.  _I’ve always wanted a butler_ , he thought as he pictured The Accountant in a tuxedo.

Negan cleared his throat, and sat back in his chair.  “Sure, Charlie, sure.  Whadda got?”

Charles pushed up his glasses.  “Well, first, I understand that we may have a new resident…er…recruit?  Would you like to credit any points for essentials?  And which department will this new person be working in?”

“Fuck.  ‘Department,’ Charlie?  Sounds so goddamn _official_.  No, no she ain’t on the fuckin’ point system. She’s essential personnel, working with Dr. Sm-uh, working with fuckin’ Eugene.”

“Very good, sir.  I will mark her as such.”  Negan smiled.  _As such._

The Accountant scribbled furiously on some scraps of paper.  “Ah, yes.  Now, I have noticed some interesting trends in spending and earning of points that I think you’ll find just interesting…”

Twenty minutes later, with less interest in points trends then before, Negan affectionately clapped The Accountant’s back as he scurried out, balancing ledgers and “Very good sir”-ing his way out of the door.

Once the office was vacant, Negan turned back to the map, looking at the outposts that had been hit.   Staring didn’t change anything, but he was hoping for a lightbulb illumination that never came.

_What the fuck kind of game are you trying to play?_

/ / / / /

_One week later…_

Lucy could not possibly comprehend having a more useless partner in reinforcing a fence.  Planning the fence, yes.  But building…god, no.  Manual labor was not a skill set bestowed to Eugene, AKA “Dr. Smartypants.”  She’d requested- begged, really- for more men from Kevin, but evidently fences were not a high priority for manpower.  No matter, she was no stranger to hard work and could make do.

If Eugene heard the slightest noise that sounded vaguely like a walker, he would rocket from his lawn chair to Lucy before she could even set down her tools and unsheathe her knife.  After a particularly bad harassment session from a few Saviors, she finally fitted him with a long, spiked pole that he could safely use from some distance away.  As a bonus, it seemed to boost his confidence around walkers and kept her mildly entertained as he grappled with the pole.  Due to his nervousness, he rarely got a target on the first try, but at least it was taking fewer attempts to take them out.

She had found over the past week at Sanctuary, that it was much easier to allow Eugene to “supervise” then actually do anything.  The first two days had been measuring and marking off anyways, and now she was digging holes for posts and pouring concrete.  It was slow and steady work, but not mentally taxing.  The repetitiveness allowed her to think while she worked on auto-pilot.

She’d barely seen Negan since she arrived, only spotting him here and there.  He’d been busy, according to Kevin when she asked once.  She had only briefly seen Negan the previous morning, looking particularly surly.  He watched from a distance inside the fences, giving orders to Kevin (who was frantically writing) while they worked and sending Dwight on various errands.  Lucy wouldn’t have even noticed if Eugene hadn’t suddenly appeared behind her, very interested in the depth of the hole she was making, and the quality of their building materials.  The swirls of rumors about outposts that were attacked explained his absence, although she hated to admit she wished she could see him a little more.  His flirtatious teasing and rampant curiosity made her feel oddly at ease.  Most people these days were shells, broken from loss and grief.  Those certainly lingered in Negan, simmering with anger and cruelty, but he had a dark sense of humor that lifted tension.

 _You barely know the guy,_ she thought.  Still, her days felt a little duller without Negan around.  _He just wanted you for your skills,_ _duh._ Eugene was still certainly good (and amusing) company, and had grown protective about his only employee.

“You know, video games were admonished by many as violent and time-wasters, but they have been proven in many aptitude tests to increase dexterity, decision-making skills, and fine motor skills,”  Eugene said, relaxing comfortable in his chair.  He had a pad out and had been quietly scribbling, a welcome reprieve from his long-winded lectures.  The floodgates had now opened, however, and once he got started Lucy had found it was best to just let him ramble.

“They are also useful for psychologically traumatic events, such as the ones we find ourselves in.  Escapism, like most everything, can be useful in moderation.  No different really than reading a book or watching a movie.”  He glanced off into the distance thoughtfully, and began frantically scribbling again.

“Mmmm, I bet,” Lucy grunted as she hauled a pole to ground into the cement.  She found she only needed to half-listen to him while she worked, he seemed to find pleasure in all manner of topics and found a willing subject.  Well, willing was a bit of a strong word, but she was happy for the company.   Memories of lonely nights, and deafeningly quiet days without a companion were enough that she could probably tolerate just about anyone, and happily so.

In fact, she was happier in general.  She had only been at Sanctuary for several days, but had found routine and structure.  She liked her little alcove, and felt safe every night jiggling both door handles to ensure the doors were locked, even the _verboten_ door.  As always, she tested escape routes and found she could reach the roof by dragging one chair to the edge and lifting herself up, and she could also jump down the railing below to get to the ground.  This was discovered later one night and nearly scared the crap out of Skinny Joey, a Savior who was sneaking a cigarette when he was supposed to be on watch.  After he’d recovered from nearly shitting his pants thinking that walkers were dropping from the sky, they shared the rest of the smoke and laughed.

It was always important for her to know at least two ways she could leave a place, and the mental calculations had become practically subconscious at this point.  Rooms (when she could tolerate being inside the factory) were scanned the second she went inside.

She still didn’t like being inside, though.  It feel like noise echoed off the walls and shot into her head, rattling around like bats in a cave.  Eugene had taken to ordering her food from the kitchen like him, enjoying the small power rush that comes with someone hand-delivering food.

That bad voice only came now in the silence of night when she tried to sleep.  Despite her exhaustion, she would toss and turn until she fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of eyeless faces and slit throats.  Every time she closed her eyes, they would appear.   _Give it time,_ she kept telling herself.  It was hard though, the lack of sleep was yet another beast of burden that weighed her down, dragged behind her like dead weight.

_BANG.  BANG.  BANG._

Hammering was therapeutic though, imagining walker heads on the end of the pole, or evil faces of men with beady eyes and cruel hands.  After using the sledgehammer all afternoon, her arms screamed for a break, so she wandered over to Eugene and used the cooler as a seat.  He handed her a water, cool and refreshing.  “It is imperative to stay hydrated, especially in this unrelenting heat.  Do you feel any dizziness or rapid heartbeat?”

She took a long, greedy gulp and gave him a small smile as she wiped her mouth.  “No more than usual.”   He lectured on the importance of hydration for a few more minutes before she seized the opportunity when he took a breath.  “Hey, Eugene?  Can I tell you something?”

“Yes, you may.  Proceed.”  He straightened up, the seriousness of her tone inviting formality.

“I didn’t actually go to school for engineering.  I mean, I did, but that’s not what I graduated in.  After a year I switched my major.”

Eugene watched her emotionlessly, then furrowed his brow in consideration.  “If memory serves me correct, you did not strictly lie if we are being fair, you only said you went to school for engineering, not that you held a degree in engineering.  I believe you have proved your worth thus far, and forgive your transgression.”  He hesitated for a moment.  “Why are you telling me this information?  Does Negan know?  I’m not sure much difference it makes, but he can be particular about information sharing.  He does not like being the last to know things, that is for certain.”

Lucy sighed.  “No, he doesn’t.  I’ll tell him myself, if he ever comes around again.  I just- couldn’t talk about it before.  I didn’t want to answer more questions, really.”

“What field did you obtain your degree in?”  Eugene asked.  A walker stumbled out of the treeline some distance away.  They lazily watched it stumble up an embankment, gurgling and slowly ambling towards them.  It had been a woman, dressed in a filthy pantsuit caked in mud and grime.  Eugene got his stabbing staff ready, and glanced at Lucy for confidence.

She took another gulp of water and nodded encouragingly at him.  “Education.  I majored in Education, I mean.  I-before everything happened, I-I was an elementary school teacher.”

 _You could have saved them.  You killed them all._   Lucy fought back tears, but the walker blurred into a hazy blob and could have looked almost human.  She blinked a few times, wiping her cheeks and took a deep breath, shoving the pain down again.  As always.

Eugene approached the walker slowly, aiming for the head but missed, instead lancing its throat.  He nailed it the second time, and turned back to Lucy, beaming as the walker collapsed to the ground.  “Well, you have been invaluable in giving me the tools to better prepare myself for walkers.  I would suspect in a few more weeks I should like to try a weapon that closes the distance a little, perhaps a machete or katana.  I might even be a certified bad-ass in due time, a term I have never used to apply to myself.”

Lucy smiled, her eyes sad and distant.  Eugene sat back down beside her, and awkwardly patted her shoulder, retracting his hand quickly after he felt the appropriate time had passed (five seconds was his current estimation).  “I am assuming your education and career path has something to do with your bouts of melancholy.  Myself having never been described as a shoulder to cry on, so to speak, I highly recommend you talk to the doctor, or perhaps find a confidant.  Burdens are heavy when lifted by oneself.  I offer myself up certainly, although be prepared to be disappointed in my reactions sometimes.”

She stood up and brushed herself off, wiping away a few tears.  “You’re right.  Thanks Eugene.”  She grabbed her toolbelt and started making her way to the last of the support poles.  She turned around and hollered back, “Eugene?  If anyone tells you that you ain’t a badass?”

“Yes?” He called back.

She grinned.  “Fuck ‘em!  You are doing just fine, Dr. Smartypants.”

She saw Eugene smile, a genuine smile, and realized it was the first time she’d seen that particular expression on his face.  As she made her way to the next pole, she couldn’t help but wonder: did she just make her first friend at Sanctuary?

/ / / / /

Orchestral tones rose and fell from an old-fashioned record player while the tall man loomed over an operating table.  On the slab was a dead woman, once young and fair to look at, cut with surgical precision from sternum to groin.  As he performed the autopsy, the tall man pondered the pedantic view of Bach.  Watered down music for the masses, really, but in this new age of decay and destruction, beggars can’t be choosers.  A nameless cretin had found the record, a mix of various classical pieces, so proud of himself for finding an artifact that he thought his master would appreciate.  His eagerness had been amusing.  He had been allowed to live, eagerness and loyalty was valuable, even in a brainless minion.

The tall man sighed and dropped bloody instruments into a pan of clear solution, blood swirling in the and slowly transforming it red.  Another unviable vessel, incapable of carrying his child full-term.  This one would have been a boy.  Her efforts had been in vain, dying during an early childbirth and taking the child with her.

 _A pity,_ the man thought as he sighed and removed his gloves, wet with blood and fluid, and replaced them with fresh ones.  In a large bowl covered with bloody rags, a small body nestled.  As he cleaned up the tiny body and placed it in a readied preservation jar, the door burst open.  A rat-faced man with a straggly ponytail came in, the look of disgust on his face more than evident as he observed what his master was doing.

 “Mr. Typhon, sir.  Most sincere apologies for interrupting, master.”

“Unnecessary, Roger.  You have news, I presume?”

“Yes, sir.  There are many more outposts than we initially thought.  Settlements too, there appears to be a several of them.  These _Saviors,_ as they call themselves, are running them, taking supplies back to their own base, which is laughably inept.”

Mr. Typhon sealed the jar and pulled off his gloves carefully, observing the specimen.  This one was the first that looked perfect, just too small to thrive.  “Excellent news, Roger.”   _Good boy, would you like a treat?_   He turned back to the cretin, so eager and afraid.  “I want only a skeleton crew watching the outposts, they are no longer our main concern.  Focus your efforts on these settlements.  I want headcounts.  Strengths and weaknesses, regular schedules, any and all information.  Find entry and exit points, preferably ones they fail to recognize.”

Roger nodded, eyeing the preservation jar with unease.

“And get someone in here to fetch this body.  She will be honored tonight as we give thanks for her sacrifice.  A feast for all, in honor of…what was her name?”

Roger shrugged.

“Very well.  In this woman’s honor.  Find out her name, for God’s sake, before the feast.”

Roger nodded, clicking the door shut on the way out.  Mr. Typhon took the jar and walked it to a nearby cabinet.  Specimens lined the shelves, most of them deformed or too small to survive.  He placed this one on its own shelf, an honor over the other atrocities.  It had been healthier than the others, and survived longer.  He traced his finger over its little face, wondering what this one could have been.

The next song clicked over, Wagner’s _Entry of the Gods into Valhalla._   Mr. Typhon smiled, the song much more to his liking.

Despite this setback, everything was coming together very nicely.

Very nicely indeed.

/ / / / /

**AN: I just noticed that some of the words got weird/removed in the last chapter if I accidentally used a single space after a sentence, so the formatting looks wonky and some areas read choppy. Apparently when I copy/pasted in FFN it got messed up and some words got deleted in between sentences that only had one space after punctuation. I went back and cleaned it up so it is easier to read and will be checking the other chapters (and please let me know if you notice anything!) Apologies if that affected anyone's enjoyment in reading the last chapter especially! Thanks as always for all the support, reviews/comments/etc.**

**Take care!**


	12. Chapter 12

Negan walked alongside the completed fence, trying to not look too impressed.  The entire west side had been reinforced over the course of the last week, thanks to his newest resident.  He had kept his distance, watching Lucy work (silently fuming that Eugene looked like a lazy fucking asshole) and not wanting to impede any progress.  He wanted to go down there constantly and flirt, but had to summon all the self-control he could muster.  Negan was a distraction, and he knew it- he had to see how this chick worked, how she functioned without him around too much.  Instead, he contented himself to watch her bend over in those shorts from a distance, pretending to do other leader-type things.  Carrying a clipboard and a scowl on his face seemed to make most Saviors leave him alone for awhile, except for fucking Kevin. 

Something about the way Lucy slammed that sledgehammer got him all hot and bothered.  But with the reports from the outposts and considering her fragile mental state, he wanted her to get acclimated to Sanctuary.  Despite her strength, she still sometimes looked like a scared rabbit, wide-eyed and easily spooked.

But he was impressed with the fence.  Reinforcement poles were placed deep in the earth and more frequently than before, allowing the fence to withstand more pressure.  Walker build-up was always a worry, especially with herds wandering through.  Razor wire looped the top with solar powered lights peppered in sparingly for good measure.  The fencing itself was doubled, front and back, but allowed residents to stab walkers easily through the fence.

Lucy was crouched on the ground, showing him how they had buried the fencing down in the dirt to prevent anyone from lifting the bottom of the fence to sneak through.  He was trying to not look at the hint of cleavage teasing him from the angle he was standing at.  _No time for that shit now,_ he grumbled internally.  Jesus, he felt like a high-school kid around her sometimes.

Negan eyed Eugene, pacing nervously from a distance and scowled.  “Was he any fuckin’ help out here?”

Eugene clutched a bottle of water to his chest, looking like he was about to cry or throw up.  Lucy nodded and stood up, brushing off some dirt.  She made her way over to Eugene, who had crept closer to the duo, and patted his shoulder.  “He sure was, making sure we got the measurements right and that I was going in a straight line.  Sure could’ve used another set of hands, but we made do.  I heard you were short-staffed.”

Negan grunted.  “Yeah.  Those pricks that drove us from the maze.  They hit a few of my outposts. No casualties, though, just a hit and run.  A fuckin’ calling card, those assholes.”

Lucy stood up, wide-eyed.  “What?  How do you know?”

“They left that fuckin’ symbol spray painted at the outposts.  The one from their trucks, I think.”

Lucy grabbed a stick and began drawing the symbol in the dirt: the seashell swirl from the trucks. “You mean this one?” 

Negan nodded.  “Fuckers.  What the shit is it?  I can think of way more badass symbols than that shit.  Seems like a pain in the ass to make.”

Lucy shrugged.  Eugene saw the symbol and walked over, eyeing Negan cautiously.  He bend down and looked closer at the scratched dirt.  “This does appear to be incredibly similar- if not exactly- a Fibonacci spiral.  This symbol was painted at the outposts?  And you said on a vehicle?  By whom?”

“What the ever-lovin’ fuck is a…what the fuck did you call it?”

Eugene straightened up, his vast knowledge bolstering his confidence slightly.  “A Fibonacci spiral is made by drawing squares using Fibonacci sequence numbers, connecting the corners via a circular arc, thus creating a spiral of this type.  After the first two numbers of the sequence, each number is a sum of the two previous numbers.  The first several numbers being 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, and so on.”  Lucy and Negan exchanged glances, Lucy biting back a smile and Negan looking about ready to crack Lucille over Eugene’s head.

Eugene didn’t notice.  “They are closely related to the golden ratio, which not only used in mathematics, but used in architecture, art, music.  Da Vinci used the golden ratio figures in his famous _Vitruvian Man_ sketch, and it is said-”

Negan held up his hand, eyebrows raised and a look of annoyance flickering dangerously.  “Don’t care.  What the fuck does it mean in terms of this group of dicks?”

“Perhaps it has been chosen as a symbol because the group finds it aesthetically pleasing.  But, in terms of a gang trying to intimidate and cause fear, it does not seem a rational symbol to inspire fear or terror.”  Eugene scratched his head and stared at the symbol once more.  “The golden ratio used in the arts is sometimes considered perfection, or divine.  Most likely that their leader, or leaders, are educated, perhaps a scientist or mathematician.  The symbol may hold the key behind their intentions, but without knowing more, I am unable to provide more useful information.”

Negan stared at Eugene for a moment, then rubbed his temples.  “Christ.  Alright, doll, you fill in Dr. Smartypants with what you know.  Get some fuckin’ shuteye tonight.  Tomorrow we head out.   _Pack light._ ”  He turned back to Sanctuary, whistling with Lucille slung over his shoulder. 

“Where are we going?” Lucy called after him.

“To see some _asshole_ named Rick.  8 a.m. tomorrow morning.  _Sharp._ ”

 

/ / / / /

At 7:30 in the morning, Lucy was already _lightly_ packed and ready to go.  She had been up for a few hours already, unable to sleep from either excitement or anxiety.  Maybe both.  A trip sounded exciting, and she was anxious to leave Sanctuary.  Although she had become more fond of the drab factory since she’d been there, it certainly had a utilitarian look and feel about it.  She was used to the freedom of woods and open spaces.

Coffee was percolating, the strong smell enveloping her into a warm embrace.  Hopefully it would a nice bribe for the other Saviors.  Except for those that had been at the maze, the other Saviors had treated her either indifferent, or like she was a bomb about to explode.  They’d all heard about the crazy maze, and through gossip and rumor it had twisted into something even more disturbing.

She’d crept into the kitchen and was now perched on the counter, dangling her legs while the coffee machine spat out the bitter beverage.  It was the longest time she’d been inside the factory since her first tour, and she found it a little easier this time around.  The walls didn’t seem quite so close and suffocating, and since it was so early there was only a skeleton staff scurrying about.  A few workers were in the kitchen, prepping for breakfast and eyeing her suspiciously but saying nothing.  They knew of her as Negan’s newest pet (although wouldn’t dare say anything), and certainly wouldn’t interfere with whatever mission she was currently on.  Red Meg mulled in, sleepy-eyed and yawning.  She shot Lucy a withering glare, an intruder in her sacred space, but only muttered some harsh words under her breath that Lucy pretended not to hear.

She had long decided ignored the tension, she’d work them over later once the Saviors liked her more.  They were the first group to work on, after all, they were Negan’s men and she anticipated working with them more than the other residents of Sanctuary.  When the coffee machine finally sighed that it’s job was completed, she poured the hot coffee into a portable carafe.  She shot Red Meg a grin (which was met with a scowl), grabbed some Styrofoam mugs and bolted out of the factory into the yard.

By the front gates, the trucks were getting a once-over by some of the resident mechanics.  Snake and a few other Saviors were milling around, smoking cigarettes and talking shit to one another.  They smelled coffee before they saw Lucy, but immediately made grateful grunts as she handed out piping hot cups.  She beamed when a few muttered their thanks, and even got small talk from the Joeys.  Snake gave her a grateful nudge of his shoulder, and Arat looked so happy she might cry.  A triumph, thanks to the bonding effect of caffeine.

As she was handing a coffee to Kevin, suddenly the gathering crew knelt.  Kevin spilled coffee in his haste, splashes burning his wrist and splattering Lucy’s boots.  He swore quietly as the hot coffee stung his skin, leaving angry red splotches.  Lucy rolled her eyes and wiped her boots with a napkin.  She never quite got use to the sudden kneeling every time Negan was in the vicinity, although she hadn’t seen much of him the week or so she had been at Sanctuary.  It all seemed a little…excessive.  An ego booster to a man who needed little encouragement in that arena.

Negan never outwardly demanded the kneel, as far as she could tell at least, it just…happened.  She always stood awkwardly until everyone else stood up, like an atheist patiently waiting for grace to be said over dinner.  She got some odd looks, but no one had bothered her yet about not kneeling.  Well, except Eugene.  It threw Eugene into apoplectic fits, he would beg her afterwards to kneel with the rest of them, but Negan never seemed to notice, and never said anything except an occasional raised eyebrow.  Plus, she told Eugene, she was building Negan the best goddamn fence ever.  In fact, he should be kneeling to _her_.  Eugene certainly did not find this thought as amusing as she did, and didn’t seem to pick up the sarcasm behind it.

As Lucy wiped up the rest of her boots, she realized she was pretty much kneeling anyways, despite different intentions.

“That’s more like it.”  She heard Negan’s low voice behind her, much closer than she expected.

She stood up and turned around, trying to steady her suddenly quaking knees.  She smiled and lifting the carafe, giving it a tempting gentle shake.  “Coffee?  Nice and hot!”

“Oh, yes you are, darlin’,” Negan smiled, sauntering over to her as she poured a cup for him.  He was dressed in his usual garb: leather jacket, leather gloves, red bandana festively tied around his neck.  Lucy noticed the dust from yesterday’s fence inspection had been cleaned from his jacket.  Did his wives do that, or did he? She wondered.

Negan tilted his head, meeting her eyes.  “Did you do all this for little ol’ _me?”_  She forgot how penetrating his gaze was, how it made her feel like the only person around.  The other Saviors seemed to melt away, just her and Negan, and their banter.

“No, I certainly know your ego doesn’t need the extra boost.  Thought we _all_ might need a pick-me-up before we head out on this mysterious mission,” Lucy said, handing a few more cups out to the stragglers.  Negan shifted a little in his boots, annoyed that her attention was now diverted elsewhere besides him.  _Precisely_ , Lucy thought.  She certainly didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her undivided attention.  How would that look in front of all these eyes watching?  Judging?  She heard the whispers that she was going to be another notch in his belt, or another beautiful, vapid wife.  Lucy was not some houseplant to spruce up a room, thank you very much. 

Negan shrugged and turned to his men, dictating the logistics of their trip.  As Lucy handed the coffee cups and carafe to a nearby worker to take back to the kitchen, she noticed three women in little black dresses and pearl necklaces, watching the scene unfold with pursed tips and furrowed brows.  She met the gaze of one of them and quickly looked away, embarrassed to be staring at them.

Kevin saw her watching them and leaned over, whispering.  “Negan’s wives.  Well, except one, Sherry.  They don’t often come out like this, especially not lately.  Wonder why.  Shit- don’t tell Negan I said nothin’.  He’ll tan my hide.”

She looked over at him and smiled.  “Don’t worry, I won’t.  They’re all very beautiful, he’s very lucky.  Why do they dress like that?”

“They’re told to, I suppose.  Negan likes them to look dolled up.  They get basically whatever they want as his wives, Negan just has one rule: don’t cheat.  Amber learned that lesson the hard way.  Shit.  You didn’t hear that.”  Kevin nervously tugged at his beard and chuckled quietly.

Before Lucy could hear more, the Saviors began dispersing and loading into cars.  She went to follow Kevin to the nearest truck when Negan stepped in front of her, blocking the way.  He had a big smile on his face, the cat that caught the canary.

“You’re ridin’ with _me,_ doll.  You like Chuck Berry?”

Lucy swallowed hard, and nodded.  She tried to tell herself the excitement she felt was just about going to new places and seeing these settlements, certainly NOT riding with Negan.  Alone.  Getting some fresh air and new places, that was all.

He gallantly opened the passenger door for her, placing a hand on her lower back to help her step up even though she really didn’t need it.  His hands always felt…so good though, so solid, on the rare occasion he touched her.

The trucks were loaded and began to set out, Negan whistling a tune and fiddling with the radio until “Maybellene” crackled though.  Lucille sat next to him, tucked safely near the door.  They waited for cars ahead to set out, and they followed.  Other Saviors followed behind, so Negan’s vehicle was towards the front of the caravan, but not leading.  Was it a tactical or safety decision?  Lucy wondered.

Lucy hummed along to the music and tapped her foot as the caravan began its journey.  She was hyper aware of everything now.  The low rumble of the engine, the smell of the coffee, the brightness of the morning light.  Negan’s bouncing energy, especially.  If he wasn’t tapping the steering wheel, he was scanning the surrounding area, singing along to music, jiggling his leg.

“So,” he said, as they rumbled along the road a few minutes later.  “You did a good job with that fence.  How are you fittin’ in with our little _community?_ ”

“Fine.  It’s- it’s definitely weird going from on my own to being with people.  An adjustment, I guess.  I don’t like to be inside the main building much still, it’s just too cramped.  I get itchy in there, itchy to go outside.  I like the workshop, though.  We can open the garage doors and it’s basically like being outside.  There’s five exits, not including windows but including the roof access.  I like working with Eugene.”

Negan laughed.  “That’s the first fuckin’ time I’ve heard anyone say that shit.  Should I be jealous, darlin’?”

Lucy scoffed.  “Hardly!  Eugene ain’t exactly my type, and I don’t think I’m his type at all.  Actually, I know I’m not- he told me on day two.”

“Hahaha!  That son of a bitch.  What’d he say his type was?  I’m fuckin’ dying of curiosity.”

“Well, bless his heart, he listed off what about he wasn’t his type.  If I didn’t know he was socially…awkward, I would have been insulted.  Luckily I got a sense of humor.”

“You spend an awful lot of fuckin’ time together, though.”

Lucy turned to him and raised her eyebrow.  “You are jealous!  With four wives I would think jealousy is runnin’ a bit thin for you.”

“Well, there’s always fuckin’ room for wife number five, and you’d fit in _perfect_.”

Lucy looked out the window, feigning boredom.  “A kind offer, but I think I’ll pass.”  She looked over at him from the corner of her eyes, adding, “I require one-hundred percent of a man’s attention, no other… _distractions,_ ” she practically purred the last sentence.

_What the hell has gotten into me?_

Negan chuckled.  “Doll, you are distraction enough, that’s for damn sure.”

“Now I get two questions.”  Negan shot her a look, and she raised her eyebrows in return.  “I don’t recall ever ending our little question game, so this is Part Deux.  You asked how I was fittin’ in, and whether you should be jealous.  Actually, then you asked about Eugene but I’ll give that one as a freebie.  Now I get two questions!”

Negan laughed and slapped the steering wheel.  “Shit, you fuckin’ got me with that one!  Alright, fair enough.  Fire away, Diane fuckin’ Sawyer.”

Lucy pondered for a moment.  “Hmmm.  I’ll start off easy.  What’s your favorite food and what did you do before the collapse?”

Negan laughed again, his smile lighting up the cab.  Lucy liked how easily he was amused, everyone was always so serious.  Sadness clung to everyone, loss, despair.  There were dark things lurking in Negan, but at least he had an upbeat attitude most of the time.

“Wasn’t fuckin’ expecting those questions.  More like ‘ _Why d’you have so many wives?’_ or _‘How’d you get so much power?”_  He made a falsetto female voice imitating the questions, distain almost palpable.  Apparently, those questions were long in the tooth and too frequently heard.

He cleared his throat.  “Favorite food, a fuckin’ good burger.”  Lucy agreed with an audible _Mmmmm._   “Shit, I haven’t had a good burger since the collapse.  The kitchen tries, and they don’t do a bad job, but I fuckin’ miss a _tasty_ fuckin’ burger.  Also spaghetti as a close second, but we still got the shit to make that so I can scratch that fuckin’ itch.”  Negan’s face changed slightly as he considered the second question.  “Before the collapse I was a coach.  High school football.  Also taught gym a few periods.”

Lucy burst into laughter, but tried to curb it when she saw Negan’s scowling face.  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.  I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just… that is _not_ what I was imagining.  Underground mafia kingpin or- I dunno, a bigshot businessman or something seemed a more likely fit.  Just goes to show you…” she trailed off as she realized their backgrounds were closer than she realized.  She wondered if he missed the kids he coached.

They both felt the atmosphere shift, an axial tilt that seemed to make everything sideways.  Negan glanced at her for a moment before cautiously asking, “What about you?  What’d you do before shit hit the fan?”

_Now’s the time, you murderer.  You tell him how you failed, how you killed them all.  He’ll never look at you the same way again, not that you deserve it._

“Shut up,” she whispered.  Negan furrowed his brow and frowned.  “Sorry.  Not you.  I- I switched majors in school from engineering to education.  I was a teacher.  Elementary school.”  She looked out the window, trying to make the scenery look utterly fascinating.

“I’m sensin’ there’s more to that fuckin’ story that you want to tell.”

“Yeah.”  Deep breaths.  Now or never.  “When everything went to shit – hey, what’s going on?”  Brake lights flashed in the cars ahead as the caravan rolled to a stop.  Arat jumped out of the lead car and jogged to Negan’s truck.  Her face looked serious, angry.  Negan unrolled the window and raised his eyebrow, waiting.

“Boss, you better come see this.  Bring the girl, too,” Arat said abruptly.

Negan grabbed Lucille from her resting place and sighed as he exited the truck.  “What the fuck is it now?”  Lucy walked quickly behind him, struggling to keep up with his long stride.  When they got to the front of the caravan, she halted, hands to her mouth in shock.

_What the hell…_

A few yards ahead in the middle of the road were three Fibonacci swirls made from debris, taking up the entirety of the road- both sides.  Saviors from the front of the caravan patrolled the nearby areas, gun drawn and looking for any signs of the designers.  The rest of the crew hopped out of their cars and began sweeping the area and keeping watch.

“The fuck…” Negan trailed off, unable to find words.

When Lucy stepped closer, her stomach dropped.  It wasn’t debris.  The design was made up of walker parts, some still alive and snapping at the air.  The design was meticulous; some of the body parts that were still wiggling around were weighted with stones to keep the design in place.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Negan exhaled.  He scratched his beard as his dark eyes scanned the area.  He shifted his grip on Lucille, knuckles white from clenching.  All was quiet, except for the road.

Simon approached from behind, flicking the safety from his gun.  “This was on purpose – they knew we’d be heading this way.  Looks like they have been cooking out in the sun a bit, it might not be from today.  Another sign?”

“Get the men in between those fuckin’ trucks while we talk game plan.  Leave a few to patrol. I’m not standin’ out here in the open like a bunch of sitting duck assholes.”  Simon nodded and whistled a signal for the rest of the Saviors.  They gathered in between two tall moving trucks, sheltered from most prying eyes for the time being as Negan and Simon began discussing their next steps.  Lucy hung back, staring at the swirls.

Fuming.  She refused to be a mouse to whatever cat was playing with them.  Nobody was paying her much attention, so she unsheathed her knife, disposing of any remaining walkers that still had semblance of life, or whatever you would call it.  She found a large stick on the side of the road and began clearing a pathway in the road for the caravan to get through.

_I’ll make my own design for you,_ she thought.  That inner voice of rage smiled and agreed.  They were both on the same page, for once.

A few minutes later, Arat ambled over from her patrol, curious at what the crazy builder was doing.  When she saw Lucy’s design, she burst out laughing and helped with the last part with her own stick she’d managed to locate.

“This is bullshit,” Arat said.  “Such bullshit.  I could understand more if we did something to this group of crazies, but this…”

 “This is madness,” Lucy added.  Arat nodded.  They continued to work in a silence of mutual respect.

Their movement caught Negan’s attention, swaggering forward to check out the commotion.  He didn’t laugh, but he did break into a smile, nodding approvingly as Arat rinsed both of their hands off with some water.

“Much better, dollface.”  He called to the rest of the group.  “Alright shitheels, let’s move out!”

They loaded back into the vehicles, Lucy watching her message roll past the front window with a tiny bit of pride as they continued the drive. 

The left side of road now had a heartfelt “ _GO FUCK YOURSELF”_ scrawled with walker parts, and a crude attempt at a hand flipping the bird.

She now would become the cat, and The Order would be the mouse.  They’d never see it coming.

 

/ / / / /

The rest of the drive was in relative silence, except for rock n’ roll jamming in the background.  Worry flickered in everyone’s minds, a discomfort of the unknown that dug deep into the brain and infected everyone.  The caravan had now split into smaller parties, a deviation from the previous plan.  Negan had decided to get this trip over with as quickly as possible, he’d go to Alexandria while Simon would swing by Hilltop, Dwight to the Kingdom.  Arat and a handful of others would hit a few smaller settlements.  Something was brewing, and everyone needed to be prepared.

Negan felt moody, a torrential storm of anger and confusion raging inside.  He did _not_ like being fucked with, he was the one fucking with others, usually.  This group, _The Order_ (a name which contributed to his rage- Negan thrived on chaos.  Order was bullshit AND it was a stupid fucking name) seemed to know too much.  They knew the route they’d take, and now he felt nervous leaving Sanctuary vulnerable.  There were still men there, sure, but not exactly his A-Team.

He was also pissed because he’d wanted to spend some time with Lucy in the car.  It sounded so fucking lame, something Kevin or another pussy would say, but he genuinely liked being around her.  The mood was spoiled though, and all he felt like doing now was brooding.  He was looking forward to messing with Rick now, and the rest of the spoiled, stick-up-their-asses Alexandrians.  But now, for the first time, Negan was a little worried that Lucy might not like that too much, if he pushed too far.  There were more urgent issues now to discuss, and pissing off Rick would be counterintuitive to the plans formulating in Negan’s mind.  This, in turn, pissed Negan off, because he LOVED pissing off Rick.

_What the fuck is happening to me?_ He slapped the steering wheel angrily, then felt a flash of guilt for startling Lucy.

“Sorry, doll.  This shit’s got me all worked up.”

“S’alright.  I’m pissed too.  It doesn’t make sense, at least not yet.  What do they want?  They just seem to be trying to rile us up.  _And it’s working._  That’s the worst part.”

Negan nodded, glowering some more. 

“But I _know_ something that _they_ don’t know that _I_ know,” Lucy said wryly.

“And what’s that, doll?”

Lucy smiled, looking out the window dreamily.  “I know where the Order’s base is.”

_Fuckin’ Bingo._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Their arrival at Alexandria had been the usual rigmarole of almost pants-pissing from the nervous ones and angry glares from the defiant ones. Both of which recharged Negan and improved his mood.  Fear meant he was doing something right, and the anger washed over him like water off a duck.  Angry people were easier to mess with, anyways, with their panties all in a wad.  This group of goddamn spoiled brats had been particularly stink-eyed since he gutted the cowardly pretty-boy Spencer and Arat shot the fat lady in charge of rations ( _Seriously? That’s who they left in charge of food?)_.  What the fuck was her name again?  Didn’t matter.

Most of the Saviors loitered by the gates on Negan’s orders, smoking cigarettes and providing minor verbal harassment to any residents who dared to get close.  Rick was nowhere to be found, much to Negan’s disappointment.  Not even the black chick he was probably sticking it to, or the cyclops kid.

Miffed at the lack of official reception, Negan strode down the paved road, Lucy in tow, towards Rick’s house, smiling and waving at the residents pleasantly.  “Hey there!  Beautiful day, ain’t it? How ‘bout that game last night, killer wasn’t it?”  Lucy seemed to sense the tension, unsure of how to act.  To be fair, Negan admitted he had somewhat padded the truth about the settlements, and who know what she heard from the Sanctuary residents, or Eugene.

The Alexandrians either scurried away back into their homes at the sight of Negan, or weakly waved back, averting their eyes to the ground.  Lucy was trailing behind, reveling in this post-apocalyptic paradise, to the point that Negan was worried she might want to stay here. 

“It loses that fuckin’ new car smell after awhile,” he muttered to Lucy.

She broke her gaze from the line of neat, pretty houses and smiled, patting his arm.  “Awww.  You’re so cute when you’re grouchy!”  Negan said nothing, but his glare said enough.  She looped her arm into his reassuringly, and patted his forearm.  “Relax, I won’t pledge my undying devotion here and leave you out in the cold, _boss._ ”

“Damn straight.” He didn’t crack a smile, but felt a tiny bit of anger blow away.  There were still plenty of stormclouds left, though.  Now was not the time to unleash them, he decided.  Strolling down the road with Lucy’s arm in his, Negan felt like the Big Fucking Dude in Charge that he truly was.  The King in his kingdom.

They finally approached a beautiful house with a cozy porch.  Two chairs sat outside, welcoming visitors to sit a spell.  Negan led Lucy up the stairs, and waggled his eyebrows at her with a voracious grin. Peeking through the window and seeing no one, he rapped on the door with Lucille.

“Little pig, little pig! Let me come IN!”  He grinned wickedly at Lucy.  “I love doing that shit,” he said in a low voice.  Lucy rolled her eyes and looked around, noting the curious faces that peered behind curtains.  It was all so…suburban.

The door finally cracked open, and a long-haired boy wearing a sheriff’s hat and an eyepatch peered suspiciously out.  When he registered Negan’s presence, he seemed to resign himself, a glimmer of defiance sparkled in his eye.  “Hey,” was all he mustered.

Negan grinned.  “Well, Carl, my boy.  How’s tricks?  Do I need to have my men frisk you, or am I safe?”  He held up his hands in mock terror.  Silence.  Negan turned to Lucy and scoffed.  “Tough fuckin’ crowd here.  They don’t find me as fuckin’ funny as I really am.”

Lucy sighed and crossed her arms, impatient.  “We gonna stand out here all day listening to you stroke your ego?”

“Listen, doll, this little pipsqueak took out enough of my men to warren some fuckin’ caution.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow.  “Do you blame him?  I thought about shooting Fat Joey myself, if he chews with his mouth open one more goddamn time."  She leaned over slightly, catching Carl’s eye with an understanding smile.  “Sorry to barge in on you like this.”

Carl smiled but didn’t open the door further.  He shot a glance at Lucy, as if he was measuring her and calculating potential risks. Negan grew more irritated, hating waiting on the porch like he had to fucking ask permission to enter.  Finally, Carl spoke.  “My dad’s not here.  He left this morning with a scouting party, but they’ll be back soon.  What do you want?”

Negan stared at Carl for a moment, shoving down his irritation in a very large box to open at a more convenient time, then cracked a winning smile.  “Well excuse the shit out of me, Prick Jr.  I do believe I will fucking wait for dear ol’ dad right here in _your_ goddamn house.” The smile never broke.  “I mean, MY fucking house.  What’s yours is mine, right?” He leaned back, a danger sparkling in his dark eyes.

_Little fucking asshole, just like his dad.  Balls of brass, though,_ he thought admirably.

Carl said nothing, but sighed and stepped away from the door, opening it ever so slightly wider.  Negan cocked an eyebrow at Lucy, leaned back and gestured widely with his arm for her to go first, like a doorman at a fancy hotel.

It wasn’t surprising that Lucy was surprised at the inside. Her eyes grew wide as she marveled at the cleanliness.  Most of the houses here looked like before the collapse, neat and decorated as if the dead didn’t rise up and kill anything living outside the steel walls.  Rick’s home was beautiful and well-kept, an open floor plan that Negan knew his way around by now.  As Lucy looked around with wonderment, Negan wordlessly handed the bat to Carl and sauntered to the fridge, rummaging around in its contents until he found a lonely beer in the back.  Before he cracked it open, his face suddenly softened.

 A little girl, about two years old with beautiful wide eyes and curly hair, sat on a blanket in the living room with a few soft toys scattered around.  Negan handed the beer to Lucy and walked over to the little girl.  Lucy cracked open the bottle and placed it on the counter. She smiled at Carl awkwardly.

“My name’s Lucy,” she said, sticking her hand out.

“Carl Grimes,” said the boy.  He looked at her hand for a moment, seeming to decide his next move then shook it.  He pointed to the little girl, currently being scooped into Negan’s arm.  “That’s my little sister, Judith.”

Lucy looked at the little girl with a smile, but Negan saw that sadness flowing underneath.  “Carl, why don’t you show Lucy around your humble abode?  It’s probably been years since she’s seen a house that wasn’t busted the fuck out. Oops.” He turned to Judith and made a face.  “I got a fuckin’ potty mouth.  Don’t tell dad.”

Judith smiled shyly at Negan, vaguely remembering the man who made spaghetti and snuggled on the porch. She traced her little baby-fingers on the leather, feeling the softness of the material and the cold, hard buttons as he cooed at what a big girl she was. “Hello, angel,” he laughed as she felt his prickly beard.  “You’re gettin’ so big!  They must be feeding you pretty damn good without that fat lady hogging all the good shit.  Oops.”  Judith gave a hint of a smile, a dimple nearly appearing and felt the jacket zipper between her fingers.  Her interested waned, however, and her soft bunny was quickly retrieved.

Thirty minutes later, they were all sitting on the porch, still waiting for Rick.  Negan was ignoring the stink-eye that Carl would shoot over occasionally.  The little one-eyed bastard seemed to take to Lucy more, anyways.  Negan didn’t blame him.  Her ability to roll with the punches meant she was taking it all in stride, trying to make the best of where they were.  She was currently listening intently to Carl describing his previous base at a prison.  Her eyebrows would shoot up occasionally and she’d interject with a “No way!”  Negan and Judith were inspecting a far more interesting bumblebee that had landed nearby.

“CARL!” They all glanced up.  A scruffy looking man in a dirty button-up shirt ran up the street, shouting Carl’s name with a worried look in his eyes.  His blue eyes pierced into the group on the porch, intense.  Inspecting.  He almost froze when he saw the little girl being held by Negan.

_Yeah, I’m marking my fuckin’ territory, you asshole._

Negan smiled and bounced Judith. She beamed and reached her little chubby arms towards Rick when she noticed him approaching. “Well look Judith, it’s your daddy, deciding to grace us with his fuckin’ presence.”  Rick hopped up the stairs and Negan turned to Lucy.  “Lucy, meet Rick Grimes, aka Rick the Prick.”

Rick didn’t flinch at the nickname, nor acknowledge Lucy.  He stared into Negan’s eyes, a flicker of defiance.  “You’re early.  We aren’t ready for a pick-up yet.”  Despite the palpable tension between the two, Negan gently handed Judith over to her dad, tickling her side in the process.  She giggled a little and buried her face into Rick’s shirt.

“Your daddy is a fuckin’ rude asshole, little angel!” he said, in sing-song. Negan’s smile melted quickly as he walked in the house, the rest of the group following behind like little ducklings.

Inside, he leaned against the kitchen cabinets while Rick handed over Judith to Carl.  “Both of you, upstairs.”  Carl nodded, awkwardly balancing Lucille in one hand and Judith in the other.  Negan took his lady back and Carl quickly retreated with his sister.

Rick turned to Negan, worry lines etched deep in his forehead.  “What do you want?”

Negan scowled for a moment, then broke into a grin, his handsome face lighting up the room.  “You know, sometimes I miss that straightforward fuckin’ attitude of yours.  Then I remember how irritating as shit you are.  And how many of my fuckin’ men you killed.”  He sighed and rolled his shoulders, a few bones popping in the process.  “We have a fuckin’ situation.  What do you know about a group of assholes called ‘The Order?”

Rick shrugged.  “Never heard of it.  Or them.”  He took a step closer to Negan, pointing his finger dangerously close.  “We also have a situation, maybe the same situation.  Are your men watching us?  You got any spies out here watchin’ our movements?”

Negan’s eyes narrowed and swatted Rick’s finger away.  “Tell me why you are askin’ first and then maybe I’ll fuckin’ respond.”

_I’ll rip that goddamn finger off and shove it up your ass if you point it at me again, motherfucker._

Rick sighed, deflating.  “We just got back from the outside, taking a look around to check for nearby herds or any trouble.  Some of our scouts and patrols on the wall reported some suspicious activity.  Thinkin’ they saw signs of humans in the area, ones that don’t want to be seen.  Aaron nearly snuck up on a man earlier this morning, but he disappeared and he lost the trail.  We found an area that was recently abandoned, some discarded wrappers and signs of a recent fire.  Found a few more, all around here as if someone is moving camps but staying the same distance away.” He sighed again and ran his fingers through his hair.  “It looks like we’re being watched.  Nothing’s been disturbed, though.  Yet.  I’ll ask again: is this your men?”

_Those sons of bitches._

Negan clenched his jaw, taking a few breaths to bring down his blood pressure.  “No.  It ain’t my people.  I don’t need to fuckin’ spy on you, that ain’t really my style.”

Rick nodded.  “Figured, but I needed to ask.  It spooked my people, feeling watched.”

Negan pointed a thumb at Lucy.  “I know- well, I think it’s these fuckers called ‘The Order.’  Some freaky-deaky cult shit.  They follow some fancy man named Thanos or some shit.”

“Typhon,” Lucy corrected.  “They are kind of like a cult, as far as we know.  They follow this guy, Typhon, a real smart guy apparently.  We don’t know much about them, except they’ve been threatening…us.  Out there, mostly, but they may know where Sanctuary is at.  If you are being watched, they probably know we are linked somehow.”  She took a swig of the now-warm beer and swallowed hard.  “They nabbed me awhile back, out in the woods, but I escaped.  They have a calling card of sorts, their symbol of the group.  It looks like a swirl, kind of.  Like a seashell.”

Rick’s face hardened.  He looked between Negan and Lucy, and began pacing back and forth in the kitchen.  “A symbol was carved in the tree where we found the fire.  Looked kind of like a shell.”

Negan nodded slowly, rubbing his heard.  “Fuck.  That’s the one.  We’re checking with the other settlements for any unusual shit, too.  You got a radio?”

Rick nodded.  “Yeah, I can put someone on it to monitor.”

“Good.  Anything fucked up happens, if you fucking find out anything about this group of assholes, you call it in, you hear?  I’ve got a fuckin’ feeling deep in my balls that something ain’t fuckin’ right.”

Rick nodded.  “Yeah, I’d have to agree.  Somethin’ ain’t right.  We’ll keep an eye out, put out extra patrols on the wall.”

“Glad we fuckin’ agree on something,” Negan snorted.

Negan and Rick stared at one another, dark eyes meeting light.  Negan liked and hated that about him, Rick always looked at you and _meant it._ Whatever ‘it’ was, he fucking meant it.  After a moment, he stuck his hand out.  Rick raised an eyebrow at him, as if to ask if he was kidding, but then grasped it and they shook hands.  Something bigger than them, their disagreements, was brewing.  Both of them clenched their jaws tight, not happy about their shaky agreement, but not altogether unhappy.

“Alright, Rick.  I know you got a fuckin’ bee in your bonnet as us being here, and I gotta get back in time to fuck at _least_ one of my wives.”  He grinned wickedly and winked.  “We’ll be back at our usual time for collection.  Stay in touch.”

He whistled at Lucy and jerked his head towards the door.  “S’go, doll.” She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly not enjoying being treated like a dog.  As they stepped down the porch, he gripped her shoulder and shook it playfully.  “Sorry, darlin’, I can get a little fuckin’…abrupt around Rick.  Won’t you please fuckin’ accompany me back to the truck?”  He held his elbow out.  Lucy sniffed haughtily, as if to consider such a proposition, then couldn’t hold back her laugh anymore as she linked her arm into his.

“Asshole,” she muttered.  He just chuckled.  “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

They loaded back into the truck, and the Saviors poured back into their cars, hollering out insults and whistling at any nearby women.  _They’re fuckin’ pigs, but they’re my pigs,_ Negan thought with a little bit of pride.  They pulled out of the gate and Negan flashed his middle finger, unable to resist.

As they rumbled back towards Sanctuary, Negan banged opened the glovebox with a meaty fist. Maps and old CD’s tumbled onto the ground. “Shit.”

He pointed a finger at Lucy, then quickly retracted it after remembering Rick’s annoying fucking finger pointing at him just shortly before.  “You find that fuckin’ base and mark it on those maps.  Sharpie’s somewhere in that bin.”  She scrambled at the papers and debris, making an annoyed sound but offered no other protest.

Negan tightened his grip on the steering wheel.  _I’m coming for you, you psycho son-of-a-bitch._

 

/ / / / /

 

Lucy hazarded a guess around where she thought the base was, but now committing it to paper brought doubts bubbling to the surface.  Negan was taking a longer route back to Sanctuary, grumbling about gas and Rick and “fuckin’ weird-ass cults and shit” while he doubled back a few times to ensure no one was following them.  Paranoia did not fit him well.  Negan had been cranky once they left Sanctuary, snapping at her then trying to ease the tension with some almost-mean jokes followed by an “Aw, shit” and a mumbled sorry. 

Their relationship was odd ( _Really? Relationship?_ She didn’t have a word for it yet).  Odd, yet comfortable.  She didn’t feel afraid of him, and he seemed to not be annoyed by her company, at least not yet.  Silences were comfortable, and conversation was easy.  Lucy felt like she had known him for a lot longer than the week or so she had tallied so far.  They teased each other and sometimes flirted, but they both were acutely aware of some invisible barrier between them, unspeakable and difficult to ascertain.

She knew of a darkness, a brutality that simmered within him.  That same darkness lurked within her as well.  If she didn’t think about it too hard, it was easy to push into the back of her mind.  The multiple wives were also some foreign concept, if he didn’t mention them and Lucy didn’t see them, it was like they didn’t exist.  And it was hard to ignore the tension, the fear from the Alexandrians that seeped out of every pore and swept down the pretty paved roads like rivers.  He had done some bad things to get them that afraid.  He had been holding back, she knew, and he was holding back because she was there.

_Ignorance is bliss._

Her thoughts were interrupted abruptly when the truck’s engine began to shudder and smoke, slowly grinding to a halt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Negan yelled, slamming the steering wheel.  “God-fucking-dammit!”  Lucy shushed him only to receive a glare.    _Let him fume, he’s stressed, we’re all stressed._ She patted his shoulder while he glared at the dashboard, then hopped out and made a quick scan of the area.  They were on a lonely road, surrounded by flat fields and neglected fenced.  Possibly old grazing land, but nothing grazed here anymore.  Only a few walkers stumbled around, not too much of a threat.  She dispatched the nearest one while Negan popped the hood.

They both hovered over the smoking engine, neither of them entirely sure what the problem was.  Suddenly Lucy started giggling.  Negan cocked an eyebrow.  “You wanna let me in on some fuckin’ hilarious secret?”

“No, no.  I just have no idea what I’m lookin’ at.  Or looking for.  The inside of cars isn’t really my specialty beyond providing a jump or checking oil levels.”

Negan chuckled and shook his head.  “You and me both, sweetheart.  Then let’s not waste any fuckin’ daylight standing around like two assholes.  It’s hot as shit outside, and we can’t sit in the truck frying like two eggs.”

As they grabbed their stuff from the truck, Negan barked into his walkie, trying to find someone within range.  Only static came through.  He closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath.  A vein throbbed on his forehead, but he didn’t have any more outbursts.

“Gotta take ‘em as they come.  Alright, doll, I guess it’s on foot from here.”

After a few looks at the map, they trudged out in the general direction of Sanctuary through an overgrown field.  Beyond the field was a forest, formerly State owned and operated, but now released back to Mother Nature for maintenance.  The grass grew taller and thicker the further inward they trudged.  The sun beat down on them, the air hot and heavy.  When Lucy was out “in the wild” as she now began to reference it, now was about the time she’d be hanging around in shade, waiting for the sun to relent.  The only sound she heard now was the increase in their heavy breathing, and the occasional sneeze from Negan as pollen released by the trampled grass danced in the air.

From her calf to her hip, now the grass was almost taller than her.  Lucy could barely see Negan’s slicked black hair in front of her, scanning the way.  Was that rustling from him, or was it a walker?  Were any members of the Order watching, having secretly sabotaged the car somehow?  The field was difficult to look through, but someone looking from above could easily see two little dots, making streams in the wavy weeds.

Panic grew in her belly as the steady rustling continued, blades of grass humming together as if to cover up tracks.  Something was behind her, she was sure of it.  Or in front of them.  Maybe they were surrounded?

She dashed quickly up to Negan, nearly bumping into him in her haste.

“Jesus Christ, honey, you want a piggy-back ride or are you just tryin’ to crawl up my ass?  I ain’t into that shit, darlin’.”

“Shhhh!”  She grabbed his arm, wide-eyed.  “Are we alone?”

He shut his mouth, instantly alert.  Lucille was in her battle stance, thirsty and ready for blood.  He crouched low, then tugged on her arm to follow suit.  They crouched and waited, waited and crouched.  Silence.

“I don’t fuckin’ hear anything, doll,” Negan said, “I think you just spooked yourself.”

Lucy exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in.  He was right: nothing but silence.  There was nothing there, not a peep.

“If it will make you feel better, you wanna hold my hand?”  He couldn’t resist smirking.  Lucy looked at his outstretched hand, torn on whether to give him the satisfaction or not.  She was hungry, thirsty, and tired, both physically and mentally from dancing around his foul mood all day.  So she stuck out her tongue instead, and stomped past him.

“That an invitation for later?” Negan chuckled.  He followed after her, heavy boots trampling down bits of grass and weeds.  “Oh, never mind, I like this much better, you can keep in front.  I got a _much_  better view of your ass from here.” 

“That’s the only view you’re gonna get of it so you’d best enjoy it while you can!”  Still, she found herself swaying her hips just a little more than usual.  _Just keeping the muscles loose and limber_ , _nothing to do with him_ , she told herself.

They continued to blaze a trail through the tall grass, ragweed and pollen puffing up in the air with each step.  The sun was blazing overhead, as if it was trying to punish them.  Well, it certainly was working.  Lucy was moving from slightly sweaty to drenched, breathing more and more ragged as they pushed on.  The trees had looked a lot closer from the road, and their progress was slow trying to push through the overgrowth.  She peeked behind and though he wasn’t far behind, Negan was looking about the same as she felt: hot and sweaty.

_It looks pretty good on him, though,_ she thought, then immediately pushed it out of her mind.  She almost had told him her story earlier, before the design in the roads, and Negan hadn’t said anything about it since.  Was she ready to tell him her story, release the poison in her brain?  Her pain was poison, slowly infecting her with darkness.  Guilt.

Pain is heartless, cruel thing, but necessary.  Without pain, how would people know pleasure?  Contentment?  Happiness?  And yet the brain reacts in different ways to pain, in order to survive.  Some pains are hidden away, filed in a dark drawer in a dark room.  “We do not need to remember this, not yet,” the brain says, “Do not speak of it.”  Other pains are brought up constantly, or at odd times.  “Remember this thing?” the brain says.  “Wasn’t that just awful?”  It feels better to hold pain inside, keep it safe from other’s judgements or reactions.  But then the pain turns sour, turns acidic.  It rots and corrodes and eats away everything in its path.  It is given the power it so craves, power over the brain, over the person.

Lucy’s pain was reigning her mind.  As they huffed and puffed forward, she felt more and more angry.  _Fuck this field, fuck this grass, fuck this heat, fuck this day.  Fuck the Order and their creepy bullshit.  Fuck everything._

As she was thinking of a few more things to add to the list, she suddenly lurched forward.  The field had ended abruptly at a slope, the earth curving downward and yielding into the forest.  She tumbled forward, the world spinning violently and bumping a few rocks on the way down.  She landed on her back, staring up at the growing canopy of young trees stretching out from the rich inner forest.  She wondered for a moment where she was.

“Christ, Lucillle!  Shit-Lucy, you okay?”  Negan rushed forward, deftly sliding down the slope and landing next to her.

Lucy was blinking rapidly, trying to gather her bearings and sat up shakily.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m fine.  I just…wasn’t expecting that.  My own fault, I should have been paying better attention.”

Negan scowled as he looked her over.  He rummaged through her backpack and located a first aid kit, pulling out some bandages and ointment.  “Fuck yeah you should have.  If you don’t fuckin’ pay attention here, you _die._   Be more fuckin’ careful so I don’t have to carry your sweet ass back to Sanctuary.  Hell, I can barely carry my own ass at this fuckin’ point.”

Lucy brushed off dirt and leaves, taking stock of her injuries, all minor as far as she could tell.  Some minor bleeding cuts were Negan’s focus, but Lucy became acutely aware of the rock she hit ass-first, and another that slammed into her ribs.  A third had scraped her leg, already trickling blood and the beginnings of a bruise announcing itself.  She hobbled towards a nearby log, soft with moss.  The second she tried to sit down, she jumped back up like the log was electrified.  The movement made her wince in pain, and she became aware of a throbbing pain in her head.

Negan laughed.  “Somethin’ bit your ass?  We almost got eaten alive by fuckin’ chiggers back there, those little shits.” 

“NO, you asshole, I fell on a rock butt-first.  Feels like I broke my ass!”  Lucy crossed her arms, fuming.  She felt around on her head, and looked at her fingers.  Blood.  Negan hadn’t noticed, still laughing at her possibly broken ass and struggling to keep his hands steady as he tried to clean a cut on her cheek.  Her _face_ cheek.

_Pity you didn’t crack your head on a rock,_ the dark voice said.

“SHUT UP!” she screamed.

“Shit, doll, I’m sorry, it’s just fuckin’ funny is all.  You nearly breakin’ your ass.  Pity too.  I would be _more_ than happy to take a look if you want.”

The ointment stung but Lucy didn’t flinch.  “I’m not talking to you, Negan,” she muttered.  Negan stopped and looked at her for a moment, then tilted her face towards the light, looking intensely into her eyes.

_He already knows your crazy, might as well let him think you are psychotic.  Psychotic murdering lunatic._

Lucy jerked her head away.  “What are you doing?”

“Checkin’ your fuckin’ pupils for signs of a concussion, ya crazy bitch.”  His fingers made contact with the wound on her head, and his eyes grew wide.

_See?_

Lucy shoved Negan away, nearly knocking him over and began pacing.  “SHUT UP!  I’m so fucking SICK of you!   SHUT UP!”  Lucy began hitting her head with her fists, trying to knock that stupid…evil voice out of her head.  She was so tired of it, she couldn’t control it.  Its constant companionship was draping over her like a co-dependent malevolence, always dragging her down.  Shackling itself to her, wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle.  Red flooded her vision, a rage that could no longer be tamed.

Negan was frozen, bandage in one hand and ointment in the other, watching her for a moment as she screamed at nothing and hit her head.  He carefully set the first-aid items down and rushed over to Lucy, pinning her arms behind her back and bringing her down to her knees.  He stood behind her and gently pushed her to the ground, pinning her down as she thrashed against him.

“Calm down, calm the fuck down before you bring every fuckin’ walker in the vicinity here,” he said in a low tone, rubbing her back as he kept her pinned.  “Listen to my fuckin’ voice and not whatever the fuck it is that’s talking to you, ya fuckin’ crazy shit.”

“DON’T CALL ME CRAZY!” Lucy sobbed, thrashing weakly.

“Fuck, alright, I’m sorry.  You aren’t crazy, just…fuckin’ confused as shit.” Negan said, somewhat convincingly.

The gentle pressure from Negan’s weight, his soothing voice was helping the red clear from her vision.  “Don’t call me crazy,” she whimpered.

“Alright, alright.  It’s alright, now.”  Negan loosened his grip on her wrists, rubbing her back as she sniffled and coughed her way back to calm. A few moments later, she was limp and resigned.  “Can I fuckin’ clean you up now?”

Lucy rolled over, wincing in pain.  She wiped her face off with a shirt sleeve, smudging dirt, tears, and blood.  “Yeah.”

They silently made their way back to the log, Lucy sitting passively with a hundred-yard stare as Negan cleaned up her wounds.  A walker growled nearby, intrigued by the racket.  Negan made a ‘don’t fucking move’ face to Lucy and moved to let Lucille fed on walker brains.  When he finished, he went and pulled up Lucy from the log.  She followed robotically, holding his hand and only limping a little.  He shot back little worried glances from time to time, but she barely noticed.

For the first time in a long time, there was nothing in Lucy’s mind.  No voices, no thinking, no nothing.  Just silence.

It was _heaven._


	14. Chapter 14

_AN: Trigger warnings in the AN below_

**Chapter 14**

They’d been walking through the woods for a few hours now, decaying leaves and brush muffling their steps through the thickening trees.  Negan estimated it was around five or six in the afternoon, and they were still at least another day’s hike away from Sanctuary.  That goddamn truck, he’d throttle the mechanic that last signed off on it, if Lucille didn’t get to him first!  The walkie remained stubbornly silent, despite his attempts every hour or so to reach someone…anyone.  Hell, he’d welcome Kevin stuttering back into the radio by now.

It was fruitless effort, he knew, but he still tried.  He silently cursed himself for the creeping paranoia.  He never should have separated from the rest of the caravan, a last minute decision he made without thinking it through.  The soft crackle of branches around them were a constant reminder of potential threats.  Were there deer out there, or just walkers?

_We need to find fuckin’ shelter for the night._

Lucy was still robotic, following his commands easily with a placid look on her face.  Did she finally snap?  Did that fall break her brain somehow?  Her pupils had looked okay as far as he could tell, a little dilated from the adrenaline but not uneven.  She cracked her head, but once he’d cleaned the wound it was a tiny cut.  Head wounds had a tendency to overexaggerate their seriousness, the concentration of veins made it easy to deceive that a head injury was more serious than it was.  Maybe she had just cleared some internal mental blockage.  The knock to her head rattled some shit around, cleared out some pipes.  Negan already missed her easy nature, it should would have made hiking in the middle of the goddamn creepy-ass woods a lot more pleasant.  They could have been well into flirting and goofing around by now.

When he first came into power,  _real_ power, not just the initial shitty ragtag group he started with, he saw how some of the new residents shuffled in after a particularly traumatic event.  Sometimes, he had even caused those particular traumas.  Oops.  Wide-eyed and passive, they went through the motions of living but not really  _there._   Detached.  Shell shock, his grandmother used to call it, from when she was a nurse in World War II.  Soldiers wandered into the medical tents, white-eyed and rambling nonsense or distant with a thousand-yard stare.  It wore off sometimes, but just took time.  And patience.

Patience was not Negan’s strong suit, but he could wait if the situation  _really_  called for it.  Or if he stood to gain from it, really.  But his patience was wearing thin, and Lucy needed to snap out of it soon.  The walkers were fairly sparse here, but danger still lurked.  The Order, a constant nagging in the back of his mind now.  Where they following?  Did they somehow sabotage the truck?  He whistled softly as they trampled onwards, an attempt to fill the enormous silence.  It sounded too loud, too casual.  He stopped after a moment, allowing silence to persist instead.

A small trail wove through the trees, barely visible with the gravel nearly washed away from lack of upkeep over the years.  He tightened his grip on Lucy’s limp hand, quickening his pace as he followed the trail.  It was going a little out of the way from where they needed to go, but he’d follow for just a little bit in case it led to something. 

Intuition won this round.  Just when he was about to turn back, the trail led to a small rundown cabin situated on a small hill.  The area appeared undisturbed, except for one lone walker caught in a blackberry bush at the base of the hill.  Negan let out a laugh of surprise, but immediately shut up when the sound echoed back at him.

“Thank Christ,” he muttered, placing Lucy a safe distance away as he approached the trapped walker.  She stood and watched, hollow eyes betraying no emotions. 

The walker had been there awhile, weak and so tangled in the thorns of the bush it was barely able to move.  When Negan approached it, he saw a park ranger badge hanging by a thread on the walker’s tattered shirt.  Unable to get a good angle with Lucille, Negan had to gingerly reach in with a knife to take out the walker.  It snarled and snapped at him with broken teeth, white milky eyes rolling in its head.  The knife slid easily through the paperthin skin and rotting skull.  The walker went limp, and the knife pulled out with a nauseating sucking sound.  Negan spied an intact shirt pocket bulging slightly.  He reached in with disgust and extracted a set of keys, dangling on a keychain shaped like a pine tree.

He lifted the keys with triumph and jingled them at Lucy, who looked through him with that long, far-off stare.  “Don’t worry honey, we’ll get you back to Earth lickity-fuckin’-split,” he said, injecting as much confidence as he could muster.  In truth, he had no idea.  He sincerely hoped he hadn’t broken her.

_Monster.  Can’t have anyone good, you’ll ruin them just like before…_

Negan shook his head.  Lucy was hearing goddamn voices, he wondered if it was the same toxic voice that sprung up from within him.  Everything good he had, he managed to ruin by his own design, his own selfishness.  Fueled by guilt, old demons from the past came clawing up at the worst possible time.

Sighing, he gently steered Lucy towards the ramshackle cabin.  It had seen better days, probably decades ago.  At the time of collapse, it still probably looked like shit.  Still, the walls looked sturdy and the roof seemed solid.

The keys fit the cabin door perfectly.  “Hot diggity dog!”  He cried in triumph.  Lucy stood dazed, still floating in La-La Land on the porch.  Before Negan pushed open the door, suddenly she snapped and pushed him away.  “Wait!”  He blinked in surprise, and smiled a little at the signs of life.  She knocked on the door and peered through a filthy window, waiting.

“Well, welcome to the fuckin’ land of the living, doll.”  Negan said, running his hand through his hair.  “I gotta admit, I’m not fuckin’ fond of you shoving me so many goddamn times today.  Unless it’s some freaky-deaky foreplay build-up…”  Lucy stared back at him, stone-faced.  Still coming out of her trance.  “Ah.  Not quite here yet among us.  But still… it’s fuckin’ progress.”  They waited a moment longer, no signs of stirring within the cabin.  He pushed open the door, rusty hinges resistant at first but eventually relenting to let them pass.

The cabin was musty and dusty, but luckily devoid of life.  It was a one-room cabin with a tiny kitchen and sitting area on one side, complete with a wood-burning stove.  Negan’s heavy boots made the wooden floorboards squeak and sigh, as if their presence was an annoyance, a burden to bear.

The other side of the cabin had a double bed, blankets still tangled from the previous sleeper.  It was coated with fine dust, but looked otherwise acceptable.  Cobwebs adorned the ceiling, but it appeared that even the spiders had vacated the residence.

 _Only one bed.  I wonder if she’ll cut my throat in the night._ He didn’t think so, but considered that in the scheme of things, they hadn’t known each other all that long.  Ah well, he had to make the best of it.

“Jesus, it’s fuckin’ musty as shit in here.”  The cabin was situated under a nestle of trees, constantly in shade.  It was cool, almost a pleasant temperature inside, a welcome respite from the muggy heat.  Negan cracked two windows, fresh air whooshing in.  The warmer fresh air from outside seemed to sanitize the stale air from the cabin.

“C’mon, c’mon, get the fuck in,” he muttered as he led Lucy in by the wrist.  “Clear off those nasty ass sheets from the bed, let’s air this place out.  There’s something out back it looks like, maybe an shithouse.  I’m going to go check it out,  _stay the fuck in here_ , you loon.” He winced and held up his hands.  “Aw shit, sorry.  I know, I know, I’m an asshole.”  Lucy said nothing, but looked around the cabin slowly.

He felt more like the loon, talking to himself.  Negan was finding he didn’t particularly like his own company, especially in the solitude of the woods.  He sounded extra asshole-ish, and felt like a tool talking to himself.  Probably something to explore there, but he wasn’t gonna touch that with a ten-foot pole today.

There was an outhouse in the back of the cabin, home only to a few fat spiders, and a wood pile sheltered in a little hut.  The forest beyond was quiet.  Negan picked through the wood carefully, avoiding any snakes or other critters.  It was hot enough during the day, but in the woods at night, the temperature could freeze your balls off if the weather was feeling particularly cruel. 

When he stomped back into the cabin, he was surprised to see Lucy had completed her assigned task of clearing off the bed.  The sheets and blankets hung off the front porch, airing out.  She’d even turned the mattress over, and was now picking through cabinets.  Scavenging was practically second-nature at this point, a task she could manage even in her near-fugue state.

“Anything good?” he grunted, hauling in an armful of firewood.

She looked over at him and blinked, the glaze over her eyes fading.  “Uhhh, not much.  Some cans of food.  Some expired, some not.  They look okay though.”  She turned over a can in her hand, furrowing her brow.  “How’d we get here?”

Negan groaned and rubbed his temples.  “Do you not remember the last fuckin’ hours we spent hiking through these piece-of-shit backwater woods?  Christ, it’s like fucking  _Deliverance_  out here, I’m surprised we haven’t found a fuckin’ hillbilly with a banjo out here.  Remember me leading you by the fuckin’ hand like a goddamn spooked horse?”

The corners of her lips twitched, betraying a smile.  “Not really… I mean, yeah I remember like walking through the woods a little.  I’m sore as hell, I remember falling down that slope.  Then-”  Something clicked.  “Ah.  I super-freaked out on you, huh?”

“That’s the fuckin’ understatement of the year, doll.  That was a full-on Norman fuckin’ Bates, Fatal fuckin’ Attraction grade freak-out.  I appreciate you not murdering me, though.”  He handed her a bottle of water from his backpack.  “Drink.”

Lucy blushed and snatched the water bottle, hiding her face in her heads.  “Ughhhhhhh.  Oh god.  Sorry.  Shit…I’m so sorry.”

_She is pretty fuckin’ cute when she’s embarrassed._

Negan placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.  “Well, I figured I’ll get a fuckin’ fire going, we cook up some of them  _appetizing_  looking cans, and you can clue me the fuck in on what is going on inside that pretty, not-crazy-at-all head of yours.  We got all night.”

Lucy stuck out her hand.  “Deal.”

Negan gave his most charming smile and instead kissed the top of her hand.  “Deal.”

 

/ / / / /

Fire is a hypnotizing thing – the flickering flames is an ambient visual force.  Mesmerizing, hypnotic, even soothing to some.  Any campfire at night usually has at least one person staring into the fire, thinking deep thoughts or nothing at all.  Just watching the flames crackle and pop, or the wood blacken, red heat lines flowing through the woodgrain like veins.  Fire must be tended and cared for, to continue providing light, heat, and comfort.  Too little care and the fire dies, too much, and it can get out of control.  Something that can cause much destruction and heartache and pain, and yet the basest of human needs when all other comforts fail.

The fire in the cabin’s stove was heating up a can of vegetable soup, the least suspect of the scavenged cans.  Sustenance and fuel.  Lucy stared into the little cast-iron window, watching the flames flicker through the grating.  Negan had gotten a lovely fire going, telling a story about how one of his men drank too much and nearly blew his pecker off pissing into a campfire because the alcohol in his system was so high.  Lucy laughed at the story, it was hard not to, but found Negan more fascinating than the story he was telling.  The way his strong hands gestured, the way his smile built up slowly, then exploded from a small grin into brilliance.  The way his eyes crinkled and eyebrows furrowed as he tried to recall dusty parts of the story.

 _Am I high?_ she thought suddenly.  She felt… not quite here but not quite gone.  Like she was watching herself in a movie, aware of what was going on but not feeling real.  When she laughed, her ribs began to ache, sending shockwaves up her body.  That seemed to bring her back a little.

“You gotta stop making me laugh, it hurts like hell!”  she pleaded as Negan handed her a bowl of soup, scooping some for himself.  Negan grinned and waggled an eyebrow.  “Eat your goddamn soup, missy.”

The sun was setting, the light growing dimmer by the minute.  Lucy had found some candles, brittle but still usable, now scattered across the cabin providing a little light.  Negan had drawn the window shades, but peeked out every so often with a scowl of concern on his face.

He sat down on the sofa opposite the chair she sat in, facing each other but close to the warmth of the stove.  It wasn’t very cold yet, but the coziness was hard to ignore.  They slurped their soup for a few minutes, listening to the fire crackle and pretending not to listen for foreign footsteps or walker moans.

Safe.  Despite the underlying caution they both exercised, there was an undeniable sense of safety, curled up next to a fire with hot food.  Lucy felt something bubbling over inside, or a tap she couldn’t shut off.  She needed to tell him.  He needed to understand. 

“I was an elementary school teacher.  Before...everything went wrong.  I-I told you that already.  I taught first grade.”  Lucy said, eyeing Negan.  He looked back at her, not saying anything, but nodded slowly.  The fire reflected in his dark eyes, like the first night they met.

“The school I worked for was smaller, served a low-income area outside Atlanta that struggled with poverty.  The kids didn’t get out much, they hadn’t experienced life outside their neighborhoods.  I had pushed for a field trip to some local caverns after I showed my class a part of that documentary about Earth and nature?  They went wild.  They didn’t know we lived so close to something so cool.”

She sighed and drank the last of the broth, the bowl clattering on the table when she was done.  “Sad thing is, the caverns were pretty small, kind of hokey.  But still, I pushed and pushed.  The kids didn’t know any better and the caves were their favorite part of the movie.  I even did bake sales and shit.  I just wanted to show them something new and different.”  She wiped her eyes with her sleeves, the flooding memories threatened to overwhelm her.

“The fees weren’t even that expensive, it was mainly getting transportation and food and shit.  Once my class was going, a few other teachers from other grades wanted in as well.  We turned it into a class camping trip over the week.  The cavern owners let us use some campgrounds on their property, and when they found out about the school they even tossed in some equipment for us to use.  Most of the parents were thrilled, no kids all week?  They flipped.  Some even helped toss in for the costs, whatever they could afford.  It wasn’t much – a lot of the teachers still wound up making up the difference.  It became some sort of hill to die on.  To show these kids something cool about the world, bring them out of the violence and poverty they saw every day.  Just be in nature, be with each other.  Kumbaya shit.”

Negan set his soup bowl down and leaned back on the small sofa.  His huge frame took up nearly the whole damn thing.  Lucy grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around herself.  She wasn’t cold.  She just needed the security.

“We didn’t even know anything was really wrong until the first few days went by.  No cell reception up there, just radio but we weren’t thinking too much about that.  The kids had a great time in the caverns the first day.  Then we just were hiking and playing games and swimming in a little crick out there.  The owners of the caverns finally ran out to us on the third day.  They had to leave, they said.  Something about the city and martial law, they had to find their daughter.  They gave me the keys to their house, the gift shop, the caverns, everything and said we could use it if things got real bad.  That’s when I knew how bad it was.”

Lucy sighed, and took a deep breath to steady her quavering voice.  “Soon after that, parents came flying in, brakes squealing and sobbing apologies as they grabbed their kids.  The bus drivers bailed, the other teachers bailed.  They had people to go home to, families to see.  I didn’t really have anyone.  Sister lives…lived… across the country.  I could have left to go find my dad, but if anyone could make it those first weeks, it was him.  The other adults promised they’d send help as they left, that they’d tell people where we were.  I was the only adult left.”  She sighed, tightening the blanket.

Negan leaned forward, elbows on his needs.  His eyes glowed in the fire.  This confession was the information he’d been hungry for, the missing pieces of a puzzle he’d been trying to sort out.  “Damn.  And no one came?”

“Parents stopped coming after a few days. The kids were crying, hysterical.  They didn’t understand, you know?  I barely understood what was going on.  All ages too, little kindergarteners barely five years old, up to ten-year olds.  It was so hard to keep track of them all, but I did.  Thirty-seven.  I had thirty-seven children to look after, all by myself.  I fed them, comforted them, tucked them in.  We moved into the house after a few weeks, the tents just weren’t safe.  I listened to the emergency broadcasts after bedtime, trying to figure out what was going on.  Some sort of virus, but they didn’t say  _what_.  Were we infected?  Were we safe up there?  We were miles away from anybody.  It was protected land, the caverns were the only thing for miles on a tiny winding road.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, memories flooding back.  “They just didn’t  _understand._  How do you explain that to them?  How do you tell them you don’t know if their parents are alive? I was just trying to keep them from starving to death.  Survival mode, you know?  I was fresh out of college, practically a kid myself in some ways.”

They both stared into the fire, watching it pop and crackle.  Negan finally spoke.  “That’s a tall fuckin’ order for anyone.  Shit, it’s a struggle keepin’ kids alive in normal times, let alone after shit hit the fan.”  He leaned forward and placed his hand on her leg, shielded by the blanket.  “You did the fuckin’ best you could.”

Lucy nodded.  “I lost three in the first couple of months.  A little friend group of older kids, they got sick of waiting around and I don’t know… thought they could find someone to help us.  I never saw two of them again.” 

“One came back.  She had turned, the first we had seen, and that’s when it really hit me what was happening.  ‘Destroy the brain’, the radio said. ‘Shot them in the head,’ a parent had said, when they picked up their kid.  ‘Who?’  I kept asking, ‘What?’  But no one had been able to say, maybe they just couldn’t find the words.  It was people.  Us, humans, coming back to kill each other, like we didn’t do enough of that already.”  She took a deep breath and cleared her throat.  Her back ached, her butt ached, everything ached.  Her heart, too.  It felt good though, saying out loud to another person, all the burdens she had been carrying.

“Losing the first three broke us all, I think.  After the emergency broadcast finally went dead, I figured there would be no help.  I lost more, here and there.  They’d disappear at night, sneak out and I’d never see them again, or they’d wander back if they didn’t make it too far.  A few got sick in wintertime, a fever spread.  A few had medical conditions that we just couldn’t get supplies for.  We hunkered down, learned to set traps, fish.  We were lucky where we were at, at least.  It was difficult terrain to get to on foot, hardly saw living or dead.  A handful of walkers that had been hunters or campers were drawn to our noise, but it was rare and we were able to spot them pretty easily.  But that didn’t matter.  By the end of winter, I was down to twenty-seven kids.”

Negan leaned back and rubbed his beard.  “Did you go scavenging?  Was there anything around?”

“Yeah.  I mean, nothing for miles, it was tough to do by foot.  I would take a truck and park it nearby buildings, but it was hard to go on foot.  It was almost over a day’s walk to get anywhere.  I’d go out and scavenge a bit, but it was so risky to leave them all alone.  We were getting desperate, though.  Older kids stepped up and started going out in groups.  What was I going to do, ground them?  I taught them to drive the truck.  I figured if this was the way the world was gonna be, they’d better be prepared for it.  We practiced taking down walkers, staying quiet, sneaking around.  Wilderness survival, luckily there were a lot of those types of books in the house.  They learned to pick locks, even made up their own sign language in order to communicate out there in silence.  They were amazing.”

“But, luck doesn’t care about how well you plan.  Despite as many precautions as possible, shit happened.  A kid would get overwhelmed and a group would lose him.  One fell through bad floorboards in an old house.  A few were so distraught, I think they just gave up.  They just stopped eating, stop drinking, staring off into oblivion.  Those were the hardest, because I was watching them slowly waste away.  I was like a mama duck watching her ducklings get picked off one-by-one by hungry foxes. Another one bites the dust.  But you gotta keep concentrating on the ones you have, adapt and adjust course.  After almost a year, I was down to twenty-one kids.  I let sixteen die under my care.”

Negan was listening intently, only contributing a “Damn,” or “Fuck” when the situation called for it, occasionally clarifying.  He didn’t placate or soothe.  Just listened.

Lucy rubbed her eyes, dry and blurry from the hot air of the fire.  She had fully expected to be a hot crying mess when talking, but realized she had long since cried herself dry.  Only a few tears here and there.

“I…I killed people, Negan.  I don’t know if they had malicious intentions or not, but I didn’t want to risk it.  I set up booby traps around our little area, deadly ones.  The kids knew where they were at, stayed away.  They weren’t for the undead though, they were for people.  When I had been out scavenging before, I saw what people did, what they were capable of.  I saw women dragged by their hair from their hiding spots, thrown into the backs of cars.  I saw men killed in cold blood, simply for not giving up a measly can of food.  Lord knows if anyone found out there were a bunch of young kids with one lonely young woman in charge...  If anyone got too close, we scared them away.  I taught the kids to trust no one but ourselves.  We all hid in the trees in shifts, sniped intruders as best as we could.  Usually they fled after a warning shot, but sometimes not.  I did what I thought I had to.”

  
“We only had a few hunting rifles at first.  A few other guns came later, but we were still laughably unprepared.  The kids each chose a weapon, and we trained with them so it would be second nature.  Knives, baseball bats like Lucille (well, without the barbed wire), tire iron, whatever we could get our hands on.  Then came the decision – do we stay here, or do we try to find people?  I wasn’t going to make the call for everyone, so we talked about it.  Talked and talked for a week.  It was so civilized it was almost funny, they were so democratic in letting everyone have their say, making lists, taking votes, and truly trying to decide what was best.”

“They decided on leaving, accepting the risk and planning for it.  They let me have final say, but I wanted it to be a decision we all made together, as the little ragtag family we’d become.  We worked on one of the school buses, making it more walker-proof and loading it up with supplies. We knew the bus would break down, or run out of gas, but they all wanted to  _try._   They said even if we didn’t find people, maybe we could be the Undead Hunters, taking out walkers so they don’t harm others.”

“They did pretty good.  We’d run across little clusters of walkers sometimes, and we practiced taking them out.  They started dressing like little warriors, face paint and old helmets and shit.  I was really just there to break up fights, make sure everyone was eating and drinking water.  Drive the bus.  We didn’t get a chance to find anyone.”

The fire was getting low.  Negan got up and poked it a bit, moving around the charred wood and added fresh logs.  The scent of pine filled the room as the wood caught, a few dry needles curling in the heat.  He dragged the soft a little closer and patted the seat next to him. Lucy shuffled over, still in her cocoon blanket.  She gingerly sat down, hissing when her bruised behind made contact with the cushion.  Negan draped his arm around her, and they watched the fire together some more.

“What happened next?”  Negan asked, handing her some water.  She took a grateful sip, soothing her dry throat.

“One night when we were sleeping in the bus, a herd came though.  One of the kids, a little scrapper named Ricky, shook me awake with scared eyes and immediately shushed me.  I see his face in my dreams sometimes.  His eyes haunt me still, he was so scared.  We were helpless.  There was at least a hundred of them, an exodus from the city it looked like, rambling past the bus.  We lay there quietly, the littlest ones by me so I could keep them close and cover their mouths.  Some kids were crying, but silently.  We were so quiet, the walkers didn’t notice.  We were almost through it, and one little girl, Sarah, had a seizure.  A fucking seizure.  No prior history as far as I knew, but I guess stress and trauma can trigger it.  Everyone was malnourished, not sleeping great.  She was thrashing and making some awful wailing noises, and a few other kids started freaking out, screaming.  It was over.”

Negan squeezed her closer.  It seemed like now the tears were coming, having someone to comfort her as she relived her pain.  Lucy pushed through, tears freely flowing now.

“The walkers immediately were on the bus, trying to get in.  We’d reinforced it a bit (I didn’t have much supplies to work with) but the walkers tipped the damn bus over into the embankment.  I got some of them out through an escape hatch in the ceiling, and they ran into the woods, climbing up into the trees like we’d practiced.  I tried to get everyone, but I lost over half of them.  Only could find nine of them in the end.  We hid out until the herd cleared away, and I went back to the bus to gather what we could.  I didn’t want the others to see.  God, it was so fucked up.”  She began to cry, gathering her knees up protectively.

“Can you see why I snapped now?  Do you understand the maze?”  She asked in between sobs.

“Shit yeah,” Negan’s voice rumbled in his chest.  It was deep, and soothing.  He smelled like smokey pine, oddly comforting and familiar.   “I understood it before, don’t get me fuckin’ wrong.  But this adds some much needed  _context_.  Jesus, honey, you’ve been through the fuckin’ wringer.”

She wiped her eyes and rested her head in his shoulder.  “I ain’t even done yet.  Nine kids in the woods.   Two of them got bit during the chaos but didn’t say anything at first.  We just figured it out after they got sick.  One of them ate bad berries, poisonous.  She was just turning when we found her, lips still red from the juices and vomit all over the dirt near her.  Another one bites the dust. We couldn’t get a break, you know?  Bleaker and bleaker. Then we all got sick, a flu or something. Boom, boom, boom.  I was so tired of digging graves, small little ones for kids that didn’t make it in this world.  Do you know how fucking depressing that is?”

“It was down to just three of us.  We’d found shelter in an old watchtower for forest fires.  We finally had a break, we had a good supply of food, fresh water nearby.  The kids were gaining weight.  Three left, we could do this.  I went out to check our traps and fishing nets one day.  I knew something was wrong immediately, I would give a bird-call (I don’t know what it was, we had just made up our own) and I didn’t hear a response back.  I ran back to our shelter and there were men there.  The Order, but I didn’t know it at the time.  The kids were on their knees, hands tied behind their backs. They’d fought back, just like I taught them. One of the guys had a pretty serious stab wound, the others had scratches and bites.  They kept talking on and on about this guy Typhon and how he was going to bring the ‘New World Order.’  I begged them to take me and leave the kids, I knew they could survive on their own at this point, but they didn’t.”

“‘We want you broken,’ they said.

‘I already am,’ I pleaded with them.

‘Not broken enough,’ they said.  Their leader shot all three kids, execution style.   _Kids_ , Negan.” Her voice choked.  Negan squeezed her, putting his chin on her head.

“Fuck. That shit is fucked.”

“Yeah.  I went absolutely feral, wailing and thrashing and biting.  They knocked me out, took me to their base, and then you know what happens next.  I laid in wait for awhile until I had an opportunity, then killed the ones I could before sneaking out.”  She leaned back, away from him a little, and looked him in the eyes.  “That’s everything.  That’s my story.”

Negan sighed, rubbing his eyes.  “Goddamn, Lucy.  I ain’t speechless often, but I don’t know what to fuckin’ say.”

She leaned back on his shoulder, snuggling down a little to get comfortable.  “Nothing.  You don’t have to say anything.  It was good to let someone else know, though.  I feel a little clearer.  I started hearing a voice soon after that, something subconscious but it says fucked up things.  How it was all my fault, I didn’t protect them.  Guilt, mainly, I guess.  When I fell it kind of ramped up for some reason, adrenaline or stress, maybe.”

Negan rubbed her shoulder as they sat in silence for another moment.  “Shit.  Well, I’m glad you fuckin’ told me all that shit.  None of it was your fault.  You shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what you needed to for the kids.  For your people.”

Lucy nodded.

“For fuck’s sake, now what the fuck do we talk about?  I feel depressed as shit.”

Lucy smiled. “You wanted to know.”

“I know, I know.”

They watched the fire for a few more moments.  Cleansing fire, sterilizing heat.  Lucy felt better, some of the chains dragging her down snapped away, lightening the load.  She still felt…a lot of things, but guilt was no longer clutching her at the throat, digging it’s claws into her skin.  It lingered still, but she didn’t feel like it was choking her anymore.

She closed her eyes and hummed softly, an old Bob Marley song her dad used to sing when she was upset. 

_Don’t worry, about a thing_

_Every little thing, it’s gonna be alright now._

Sitting in Negan’s arms, wrapped in a blanket in front of the fire, no more deep dark secrets. 

Sleep came quickly, dreamless and sweet.

/ / / / /

**AN:  Trigger warnings - death involving children, allusions to assault/rape.  Heavy chapter, but Lucy let it all out, which can be cathartic and crucial to moving on through trauma!  This story can be kind of heavy, but thanks for sticking around!  I hope you are enjoying it so far.  Next chapter will be a little lighter, I promise!  Hope you are enjoying the story so far.  Thanks for all the follows, favorites, comments/reviews so far.  Let me know how you are liking it so far, and any thoughts you have!**

**Take care lovelies xoxo.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 

It wasn’t the sunlight that woke Lucy, but the heat.  That chest heaviness and persistent sweat that the joy and curse of humidity brings.  She blinked her eyes open, then realized it wasn’t just the humidity, but Negan’s arm thrown over her that was heavy.  They lay tangled in the bed, blankets thrashed in the night from cold-hot, hot-cold sleeping.  A blaring headache and immensely full bladder indicated she had slept probably the longest and hardest in years.  It tasted like something had died in her mouth as well.  _Attractive,_ she thought, squinting in the morning light.  Her eyes felt swollen and dry, hungover from all the crying last night.

It was definitely not a pretty morning.

Negan grunted softly at her waking movements, but remained asleep.

 _Shit, shit, shit._ Lucy thought, suddenly hyper aware of every inch of contact.  Did Negan bring her to bed?  She remembered falling asleep on the sofa, and vaguely getting elbowed at point during the night.  Did she remember a kiss on her head, or was that a dream?

She slid carefully out from under his arm, sliding a pillow in her stead like Indiana Jones replacing a priceless artifact with a decoy bag of sand.  Light shone in from the edges of the curtains, announcing a sunny, hot-as-shit day in the outside world.

_First, pee.  Then a mouth rinse.  Oof, it tastes like ass._

She managed to slip out of the cabin fairly silently after rummaging through her bag and took care of business in the outhouse, carefully avoiding the spiders that lurked overhead. She slipped some travel toothpaste from her pocket that she had kept in her backpack, brushing her teeth with a finger in desperation.  She suddenly wished she had a little bit of make-up to throw on, like she used to before the collapse.  Wake up before the bed partner does, go slip on some natural make-up, and they’d think you look that nice all the time.  Easy peasy!

As she spit out the minty toothpaste, it hit her.  Who cares?  Only Negan’s wives really wore make-up anymore, it just wasn’t practical anymore.  Negan probably would tease her relentlessly if he caught her putting on mascara before hiking through the woods and getting splattered with walker bits.

_You care a lot about what he thinks about you…_

Of course, he was a friend, she reasoned.  A very, very dear friend.  He had helped her in a very emotional time (well, make that multiple times), and probably thought she was a loony.  A nice loony, at least.  He seemed to enjoy her company, and he didn’t seem the type to fake politeness for long, if at all.

She slipped back into the cabin, tiptoeing back inside to hover by the bed.  Should she crawl back in, like she’d been there all morning?  Should she make little noises like she’d been up, see if he wakes up?  He still looked fast asleep, curled on his side (and Lucy just noticed with a blush- in just boxers and a T-shirt) and mouth slightly open, breathing steadily.  He looked almost innocent without a naughty look in his eye or his all-knowing smirk.

“It’s creepy as shit to watch people sleep, you know,” he said, voice crackling in that sleepy morning way.

“Ughhh.”  Her cheeks reddened from embarrassment.  She shuffled forward and shoved aside the pillow, flopping face-down onto the bed.  “Oh fuck, owch!  I was just trying to decide whether or not to go back to sleep, since you looked like the dead,” she said, muffled by the tangle of blankets.  “Everything is sore as shit.  Rocks do not make for a soft landing.”

He chuckled and threw his arm carefully over her back, yawning audibly.  “Noted.  What the fuck time is it?  I was fuckin’ out of it myself after haulin’ your ass to bed.  Something about sleeping with a beautiful lady just soothes my soul.”  He grinned and poked her arm.  “Even one that fuckin’ hogs the blankets and then tosses them around like beads at a goddamn Mardi Gras festival.”  He cracked an eye open, looking at the graceful curve of her body, perfect ass, as she buried her head in the pillow.  “Still gave me morning wood that I could drill into the wall, though.  Unless…”  He waggled his eyebrows and bit his lip, an attempt at seduction.

Lucy giggled and shook her head, mumbling something along the lines of “Mmphhtt mfh mmrffppff.”

Negan sat up, moaning and popping his back.  “Whatever the hell you just said into that pillow did not sound like fuckin’ English, doll.  Although thank you, I am very much enjoying this view right now,” he said as he gently patted her bottom.  “Which cheek is the sore one?”

Lucy wiggling her hips a little, trying to indicate the right cheek, but realizing her failure immediately when all Negan did is groan appreciably.  Lifting her head from the pillow, “I said we should probably get going soon.  And it’s the right cheek.  Sore as hell.”

“You should probably fuckin’ show me.  You know, medical purposes and shit.  Make sure it ain’t infected.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Alright, but LOOK at just the injured area.  Don’t TOUCH.  And that’s all you’re getting from me, mister boss-man.”

She buttoned her pants and pulled them down slightly, exposing her wounded derriere.

“GodDAMN, that’s a bruised ass.”  Negan laughed.  He reached to trace the bruise but quickly drew his hand back.  “No wonder it’s sore as shit.  Have you seen that thing?”

Lucy lifted her head and turned to take a peek.  “I can barely see it, I just see purple and black which I knew was there already.  Oh hang on, there’s a mirror by the front door.”  She rolled over and hobbled to the front door, trying to keep her britches from falling down.  “GROSS.  It kind of looks like a cat’s head, see the ears?  Or maybe a little devil face with horns.”  They stood at looked at her reflection in the mirror, tilting their heads this way and that, making shapes from the ass-bruise.  She glanced at Negan’s face, a big grin plastered.  She suddenly grew self-conscious, her ass hanging out of her jeans in a cabin where she was alone with a very handsome man.  _He certainly doesn’t want to be just friends, you naïve, naïve girl._

“Enough of that,” she pulled up her pants and scratched Negan’s beard affectionately.  He growled in appreciation.  “As lovely as this cabin has been, let’s get the heck back.”  She threw her backpack on the sofa and began carefully packing.

“Boy, you’ve got some fuckin’ gumption this morning.  Welcome the fuck back,” Negan said as he picked around the blankets on the floor, looking for his clothes.

She continued to pack as Negan pulled on his pants and brushed his teeth.  She stopped when she got to the maps, scattered on the little coffee table.  “You think we can find the cabin on this map?  At least, the general whereabouts?  It’s real handy, I think.  Might come in use.”

“Already did, last night while you were fuckin’ sawing logs, right before I joined you.  Don’t know the exact location but I marked a circle in the general fuckin’ vicinity.”  Lucy squinted at the map, then found the mark he was talking about.  The location looked about right.

“Great minds,” she said with a grin, throwing the maps in the backpack.

“Great minds,” Negan agreed.

 

/ / / / /

 

They must have slept for ten hours or so, based on the sun’s unforgiving blaze overhead.  Negan hadn’t anticipated them sleeping in so long, instead expecting them to sleep rough and get an early start.  He had been tempted to just stay in that cabin and lay in bed all day with Lucy, trying to not think about screwing her brains out.

Instead, he was screwed.  So screwed.

All the crazy shit that happened to her, just seemed to draw him towards her even more.  She stayed and fought for those kids until the very end.  Now he knew why she just got him, understood that he did what he thought would keep everyone alive, even if it involved cracking some skulls.  She had done the same.

They pushed onwards, moving through the woods with a fresh determination that good sleep can bring.  Negan realized it was the first good sleep he’d gotten in a long fucking time.  Was it the company that let him sleep so deep?  Or just exhaustion?

Lucy was alert as they forged on, constantly scanning beyond the trees.  _Welcome back,_ he thought.  Now out of her fugue state, she seemed to be extra cautious, on alert for any signs they were being followed.  She caught him watching her look around, and gave a smile.  “C’mon old man, keep up!”

“Oh, you little shit...  Just for that comment, I’m going to put a bruise on the other cheek from my hand!”  He darted towards her, and she dashed away beyond his reach, clutching her bottom and giggling.

“Stay away, perv.  Look, but no touchie!”

The scenery was beautiful, but blended together in its sameness.  They began to talk about things, remembering old movies (Negan wished they could find a copy of _Pulp Fiction_ , while Lucy was now missing _Indiana Jones_ , for some reason).  They compared taste in music and food they missed.  Negan told her stories from his own journey after the collapse, the lighter and more humorous ones.  He didn’t speak about Lucille, only stupid bullshit stories.  They’d had enough darkness for awhile, Lucy enough for a lifetime.  They stopped occasionally to rest on a stump or a rock and hydrate, chew on the last bits of jerky Negan had stashed away. Lucy was sore and hurting from her tumble, but refused to rest for too long.  Despite the nagging temptation for Negan to drag her back to the cabin and just stay there forever, they were both anxious to return.

After they’d exhausted the lighter topics, they settled into a comfortable silence, the occasional comment or pause to catch their breath.  The trees began to thin out and walkers became more frequent, a good sign of their progress.  They took out any within the immediate vicinity, Negan especially swung Lucille with extra relish.  He needed to blow off steam, that was for damn sure.  Eventually, the treeline broke and they came across a road that looked vaguely familiar to Negan.  They crouched along the edge, using shrubbery as cover and watching up and down to check the area.  Suddenly, Negan’s walkie squawked to life.

“Boss!  Boss, you out there?  Answer me.  We’ll try again in an hour.  You read?”  A voice came through, sounded maybe like Dwight.

_Oh, thank Christ._

Negan unhooked his walkie, thankful he had conserved the batteries through most of their trek, after the signal proved lackluster.  “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Oh thank fuck!” the voice squawked.

“That fuckin’ truck died when taking a detour, we had to cut through the fuckin’ woods.  Whoever last did maintenance on that is gonna get their ass kicked.  We’re still several miles away from base, maybe more.  Heading…”  He squinted around, gathering his bearings.  “Uh, northeast on some piss-poor excuse of a road.  Get your asses out here and find us.” 

“You got it, boss.”

Onward they went, feet blistering and drenched with sweat.  They avoided the road directly, but following alongside.  Negan would bark out some orders every so often into the walkie, until Lucy finally collapsed onto a tree stump, panting and clutching her bruised ribs. 

“We look like we’re fuckin’ waiting for a goddamn bus,” Negan scowled.  “Sitting fuckin’ ducks.  We’re losing daylight if they don’t get here fuckin’ soon.”

“Oh, hush, you big baby.  I swear, you can rival a toddler with the fussing you do, sometimes.  Drink some water, you’re just cranky and dehydrated.” Lucy said, handing over her water bottle.

“Am not.” He scowled and took a swig anyways.  “I am _big_ though.”

“Ugh.”

They both jolted (Lucy wincing from the movement) at the sound of the low rumble of an engine creeping closer.

Negan grabbed the walkie.  “If you’re drivin’ on a piece-of-shit road right now, slow the fuck down and fuckin’ stop.”

“Wh-what? Why?  You around?  That you, boss?”

_Fucking Kevin.  Of course they sent the one fucking guy that will drive me fucking crazy right now._

“Yes, it’s goddamn me, Limp Dick.  Just stop the fuckin’ engine for a minute.”

“Okie dokie.”

“And don’t fuckin’ say ‘okie dokie,’ for the last fuckin’ time.”

“Okie-shit.  Alright.”

The rumble stopped progressing, steady until finally cutting out.  Lucy grabbed Negan’s arm in excitement.  “It’s them!”

They walked back alongside the road until they spotted the truck.  Kevin jumped out of the front seat, hollering and waving until Negan growled at him to shut the fuck up.  Lucy ran forward, and much to Negan’s annoyance, gave Kevin lopsided hug until he caught Negan’s glower and jumped away from her.

“Took you long enough,” Negan said, tossing the backpacks in the back and Lucille in the front cab.  “Why the fuck did they send you out here by yourself?  I don’t warrant a little more of a fuckin’ welcoming party?” The truck door slammed, feeling the brunt of Negan’s frustration.

Lucy made a teasing “oh shit!” face at Kevin, which Negan pretended not to see.  She chattered away at Kevin, filling him in on Alexandria, the truck breakdown (but not her own breakdown), and the adorable cabin they found.  Negan rolled his eyes.

_Buncha goofy assholes._

It wasn’t that he was _jealous_ of Kevin, no.  He just didn’t like how chummy those two were.  If there were any two people he’d leave Lucy with though, it’d be Eugene or Kevin.  Between the two of them, they were always too busy halfway pissing themselves to be any sort of heartbreakers. Eugene was too smart and in his own head, Kevin was too nervous and in his own head.

Kevin coughed awkwardly, as if he was about to make a big presentation.  Negan glanced over, annoyed, and noticed the sweat beading off of his forehead.  _More nervous than usual, and that’s a hard fucking accomplishment._

“What the fuck is going on?” Negan said.

“Boss, there’s uh...  There’s some stuff going on back home, back at Sanctuary you should know about,” Kevin said.  “Dunno if I should tell you now- or...shit.  Should we wait for Dwight when-when we get back?  I think Dwight should tell ya.”

Negan groaned and rubbed his eyes.  The truck was cramped, Lucille’s barbs kept poking his leg through his jeans.  It smelled like stale cigarettes and Kevin’s fucking cologne.  He smelled, Lucy smelled, Kevin smelled. “Fuck.  Can’t this shit wait until I get a shower?  I’ve been walking around two goddamn days in the fuckin’ woods, sweating my balls off.”  A slight pounding in his head grew worse.  He was getting ornery.

“Yeah, sure.  Sure, whatever you want, boss.  Yeah.”

As if she felt the oncoming headache, Lucy handed him the water bottle.  Negan raised his eyebrow, but didn’t take the bottle.  Her eyes narrowed, and she shoved the bottle in his hands.  _Yes, Mom,_ he thought grumpily as he took a sip.

As they rattled along, Negan furrowed his brow and bit his lip as he fought off curiosity.  Finally, he couldn’t handle it.  “Christ, just tell me now.”

Kevin gulped.  “Is it okay?  I mean, is it okay with her in here?  It’s uh…-shit.  You’re not gonna be happy is all.”

“Just fuckin’ spit it out before I brain you on the side of the goddamn road, Kevin.”

“Alright, so one of the kitchen gals, I think her name is Becca?  She’s real nice.  Real stand-up gal n’ shit, is what I mean.  Anyways, she was up serving dinner to the wives, and I guess she overheard Frankie telling another chick- not your wives but one of those gals that hangs around tries to catch your eye to be another wife.  Christ.  Sorry-just sayin’.  Maybe Charise her name is?  Kind of stripper-y sounding.  Anyways, so Becca heard Frankie talking to Charise or Clarice or whatever-“

“Kevin, I swear to fuckin’ God, get to the fuckin’ point.”

“RIGHT.  So- wait hang on.  Shit. I got lost.”

Lucy stepped in, sensing Negan’s increasing rage level.   “So, one of his wives was saying something?  Kitchen gal overheard?”

“YEAH.  Thanks.  So, Becca heard Frankie talkin’ to this chick, and thinks she overheard something about Amber trying to do something bad.  Not the cheating thing- shit, sorry.  I didn’t mean to bring it up.  But it wasn’t that.  Something about pills.  She got real worried- Becca that is, the kitchen chick, remember?”

“KEVIN!” Lucy and Negan both yelled.

“Sorry!  Right.  So, Becca tells her boss, who tells Snake, who told Dwight.  Dwight searched their rooms on the sly, and found some pills in Amber’s room.  Just a handful, the plastic capsule kind you can kind of crack open, right?”

“Right, yeah, pills,” Lucy said, ushering him on gently, eyeing Lucille nervously.  Negan felt a vein throbbing in his head, his vision was going a bit wonky.  _Fucking Kevin._

“So, THEN the cleaning staff.  They don’t know about all this but they find some empty capsules on the ground and report it to their boss, right?  ‘Cause it’s real unusual, you know?  Weird stuff.  So they report it to their boss, and who reports it to their boss, right?  So, they report it to Dwight, and you know where those pills were?”

Negan just stared at him.  If looks could kill…

“ _In your office_ , boss.  By the bar, on the floor.  So, Dwight’s nervous and takes the pills and empty capsule thingies to Doc Carson, who doesn’t really know what the fuck they were.  Then I came in around that point, after hearing all this from Becca (she’s real cute, real nice too) and I remember we got them humane-type mouse traps around.  We got the ones that snap too, but the ones that keep them alive too.”

Negan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  Killing the driver of the truck would be dangerous, he warned himself, wait until the truck pulls over before strangling Kevin…

Kevin took a deep breath and continued.  “I get one of them with a mouse trapped inside, still alive, and bring it to the doc.  He gives a little bit of the pill stuff to the mouse.  And get this- _it died._ Shit’s poison!  Capsules were filled with something deadly.”

Negan rolled his tongue in his mouth and sucked his teeth in irritation.  _Pills.  In my fucking office, by the bar._ Amber had come in that one night after he got back from the maze, acting lovey-dovey and trying to give him a drink.  She never waited for him in the office before, but he was too exhausted and curious about the maze to be suspicious about Amber.  After all, she’d still been trying to get in his good graces after the cheating…

“That fuckin’ bitch tried to _poison_ me?” Negan said in a dangerously low voice.  Lucy’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped.  She turned to Negan and put her hand on his leg, an attempt to soothe, although it did little to quell the rage boiling inside.  Negan’s fists clenched, the leather gloves stretching tight from the force. 

Kevin cleared his throat.  “Uh, that’s what Dwight thinks.  Shit, I’m sorry, boss.  I guess Frankie found out before it happened and was pissed, and that’s what that fight was about when we got back from finding the maze that first time.  But we didn’t know at the time what exactly it was about.  Dwight put guards on their room until you got back and sorted things out.”

Negan filled the cab with chaotic energy.  He couldn’t sit still, shifting in his seat and gripping Lucille, setting her down, and picking her back up again.

“FUCK!”  He slammed the dashboard with his hand.  He needed to kill something, hurt something.  “Pull the fuck over, Kevin.”

Kevin obliged.  Negan jumped out of the cab and stormed over to a few walkers, cracking them with Lucille over and over.  “Fuck! FUCK!  FUCK!”  When just a pile of gore was left, he stood there, panting.  Mind reeling, anger just on the precipice of being out-of-control.

Since everyone in goddamn Sanctuary seemed to know what happened, he needed to take care of this carefully.  Too easy on her, and he looked weak.  Was it possible he could be too hard?  He wouldn’t kill her, couldn’t kill her.  He didn’t kill women or children.  Just fucking Simon did, going rogue and defying Negan’s orders once, with the Oceanside community.  Another bastard to keep his eye on.  Surrounded by snakes in the grass, betraying sons-of-bitches…

He paced back and forth on the road, acutely aware of Lucy and Kevin staring at him from the truck, unsure of what to do.  So was Negan.  What to do… lock Amber up?  Exile?  Did she try to kill him because of her sorry excuse of a boyfriend, or did she serve a greater purpose- maybe some sort of power grab?  She wasn’t exactly the smartest fucking cookie, but she could get caught up in some scheme if she was pissed enough.  The Order…was this their doing?

He heard footsteps crunch on the asphalt and turned around.  Lucy.  Kevin would have never had the guts to approach him, leaving him to calm down on his own and return back.

“Come on,” she said softly, gently putting her hands on his shoulders.  He stopped pacing, but still panting heavily, breathing hard in anger.  “Let’s get back to Sanctuary.  You can take a shower, eat some real food, and we’ll deal with whatever’s going on afterwards.  They’ll still be there when you’re ready.”  She put her hands on his cheeks, and turned his face to hers.  He could barely look into her eyes, red rage practically clouding his vision.  “She wasn’t successful, you’re still here.  Alive.  All in due time, honey.”

He met her eyes and softened slightly.  All that was there in those beautiful eyes was concern.  _She’s right, good decisions aren’t made when fucking pissed off._   His jaw was starting to ache from all the clenching.

“One of my wives just tried to fuckin’ kill me.”

“I know.  People do stupid shit when they are desperate.  She didn’t succeed.  We don’t know what happened yet for sure, so let’s get back and find out.  Maybe she was set up, or maybe she’s just plain dumb.”  Lucy held out her hand.  “C’mon.  Let’s go home, sort it out there.”

“You’re pretty smart for a fuckin’ nutjob,” he said scowling.  He took her hand and following her back to the truck.  Kevin was drumming on the wheel and looking anywhere but at them.

“And you’re pretty fucking cranky for such a big, tough man,” she said with a smile.  “Come on, Eileen, let’s get you a juice box and a nap.”

“Bitch,” he muttered as she climbed into the truck.

“Asshole,” she shot back.

_See, she just gets you._

_/ / / / /_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The sun was setting as they arrived back at Sanctuary.  Ominous clouds threatened the horizon, rolling in to accompany the general mood.  Negan had spent the drive glowering and staring out the window, Kevin was a fidgety mess, and Lucy was just plumb worn out.  And sore, to boot.

Saviors loitered by the gates, kneeling once Negan hopped out of the truck.  He pointed to Kevin.  “You, find fuckin’ Dwight and send him to my fuckin’ office. NOW.”  Kevin ran off before Negan even finished the sentence, practically leaving cartoon dust puffs in his wake.

Then to Lucy: “You.  You aren’t fuckin’ sleeping outside with that storm brewing.  I don’t give a shit where you squirrel away to, but you better not be on that fuckin’ balcony if it storms, you hear?  Get your shit and find someplace else.”

Lucy nodded, docile as a lamb.  _Do not poke the bear._ “Alright. There’s a small storeroom in the workshop, I’ll go hole up there.”

“Whatever.”  Negan turned on his heel and stormed inside, hollering “Stand the fuck up and get back to work,” at the kneeling Saviors before slamming the door behind him.  He didn’t wait for Lucy, and she felt a tiny pang of hurt. 

_Getting awful needy, aren’t you?  It was just one night alone…_

She had to admit, she wished they’d stayed in that cabin all day.  It had been a reprieve, a little sanctuary of their own away from the real world of whatever the hell was going on.  Now there was more than one storm about to roll in, and one would be far more terrible than the other.  Negan’s storm, most likely.

After a much needed shower and change into clean clothes, she grabbed her sleeping bag and hustled outside.  Fat droplets of rain were already pattering the asphalt outside.  Thunder rumbled softly in the air some distance away.

 _There’s more than one storm brewing,_ Lucy thought.  _Better be on the right side of both of ‘em._

The workshop was quiet, Eugene probably at dinner or in his room in the factory.  The back storeroom was fairly clutter-free and had some spiders taking up residence inside, but was otherwise livable.  An old army cot was folded up on one side, as Eugene sometimes required quick catnaps to “reawaken tired neurons.”  Lucy cleared a little corner for herself and contemplated what to do.  Should she go check on Negan?  She seemed to be pretty good so far at settling down his moods, but he hadn’t invited her up and she hadn’t seen him this angry before.  He needed to think by himself for awhile, weigh his options.  Why had his wife tried to kill him?  His wives never seemed too particularly happy when Lucy managed a glance at them, perhaps they regretted their choice in marrying Negan.  Maybe it hadn’t been much of a choice to begin with.

There was a longing there, even with the suspicious circumstances of his wives.  Lucy wanted to be there with Negan, talking through his predicament.  There was something…magnetic.  She was drawn to him.  But, she’d put him through the ringer yesterday, and he probably needed a break from her crazy ass.  Lucy sighed and stretched, and decided to brave the rain.

She found herself wandering into the cafeteria, which was bustling with hungry residents fleeing from the rain.  The line for food was long but moving quickly, and she found herself with a plateful of watery stew with an unknown meat origin, mashed potatoes, and green beans.  It all smelled heavenly, and her stomach growled audibly.  She began to feel a little faint, suddenly realizing she’d only had a small ration of jerky the past two days.

“You new, honey?  Here, come sit with us.”

A pleasant-faced woman with kind eyes approached her as she looked for a table, and Lucy smiled gratefully.  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.  Name’s Lucy.”  She juggled the tray to stick out a hand, which the woman shook.  Her smile lines and frown lines seemed about equal, a life of happiness and worry in a tentative balance.

“I’m Joanie, nice to meet you.”

_The teacher, according the Kevin._

They walked over to an open table with a few other women sat, chatting away as they quickly downed their dinner.  “Gang, this here’s Lucy.  She’s a new gal and could use some friends around here.”  A round of smiles and waves.  Joanie began introductions.

“This here’s Becca, she works morning shift and occasional late-nights in the kitchen.”  A shy brunette with glasses waved her fork, mouth full of food.  _Ah, the girl Kevin appears to be so fond of,_ Lucy noted for future meddling, maybe when things calmed down a bit.

Joanie pointed to a no-nonsense woman sitting next to Becca, with a bun so tight it seemed like punishment and a penetrating, all-knowing stare.  A tiny rose tattoo peeked out from the collar of her shirt, the only indication that she had ever rebelled against anything in her life.  “And here’s Lisette, she runs a stall in the market for toiletry-type goods.”  Lisette gave a quick nod.

“Hi Lucy.  I offer discounts for scavengers,” Lisette said.  “You ever go out, I got a list ten miles long.”

“I bet,” Lucy said with a smile, setting down her tray.  She looked around and smiled, now a part of something she didn’t realize she wanted.  “Chow down,” Joanie said. “Don’t wait on our accord!”  Lucy obliged.

“And here’s Jenna.  She works in our pitiful gardens or laundry, depending on the weather.”   A young black woman with kind eyes, smiled and rolled her eyes.  “Sure as hell working laundry tomorrow if this shit keeps up, but the plants’ll be happy.” She turned to Lisette.  “You think a group will go out scavenging soon?  I’d much rather go out, even in the rain then be stuck washing dirty drawers all week.  Plus, extra points for hazard pay, and Mama needs a new pair of boots!  Look at these things!”  She lifted her feet up, showing off the soles of her boots that were pulling away from the leather. 

Lisette snorted and said, “If they did, they sure as hell wouldn’t invite you.  Everyone who’s crazy enough wants to go scavenge, but it’s just the _elite group_ that’s halfway up Negan’s ass gets to go.  Probably keep all the good stuff to themselves.”  With her plate cleaned of any trace of food, she took a last gulp of water and stood up.  “Alright ladies, back to the grind.  Nice to meet you, Lucy.  Don’t be a stranger.”

Joanie laughed.  “See ya, Lisette.” She turned back to the rest of the women.  “Yeah, I bet that Laura chick always nabs all the good tampons when she gets to go, only brings us the shitty cardboard ones!  There’s got to be oodles of the good shit out there, that Judas bitch.  I’m almost considering loitering around the wives quarters, maybe if I marry the Boss I don’t have to run to the bathroom every two hours when I’m on my period.”

“TMI, Joanie,” Jenna said, crinkling her nose.  Joanie shrugged, there was little shame left in this world anymore, certainly amongst this company.  “Where are you assigned, Lucy?”

Lucy’s face grew a little pink, feeling a bit like the teacher’s pet sitting at the wrong table.  “Uh, at the workshop out back?  With Eugene.”

Jenna’ eyes grew wide and she whistled.  “Oh shit, you’re the chick that built our new-and-improved fence out there!” She gave Lucy a high five and stole a forkful of green beans with a sly smile.  “You go, girl!  I saw you out there all the time when I was in the garden, working your ass off!  Is it true you built some crazy death trap for biters?”

“Oh, uh…yeah.  It was kind of a maze thing, but we didn’t even really get it up to its full potential.  We got interrupted by another group, some pretty bad guys.”  The blush grew and crept up Lucy’s neck and into her cheeks.  She must be fully tomato-status now, embarrassed and unsure.  The maze felt so long ago, almost a bastion to her shaky state of desperation at the time.  She wasn’t getting odd looks though…

_Is that admiration?  Do they actually think it’s cool and not crazy?_

“Well, anything that takes those bastards out sounds good to me,” Joanie chuckled. “Jenna and I are going into the rec room after this and play Double Gin Rummy.  You in?”

“I’ve played Gin Rummy before, but what’s Double?”

Jenna cocked an eyebrow and smirked.  “It’s just regular Gin Rummy, but we drink some gin that I smuggle out of the kitchen while we play.  We don’t gamble though, just play for fun.  Nobody has shit to bet anyways.  But we can get pretty hammered if you can choke down the gin, though.”

Her heart was pounding in excitement.  That rush of making new friends on the first day of school, of being a part of a group.  Belonging.  The walls in here didn’t feel as tight as usual, the crushing claustrophobia was all but forgotten.

Lucy grinned.  “Sounds amazing, I’m in!”

Her dinner, already tasty from her ravenous state, somehow managed to taste even better.

/ / / / /

 

“I don’t give a shit what kind of poison they were, where the FUCK did she get it from?”  Negan slammed Lucille down on the desk every few words for emphasis.  Papers flew around the room, dancing in the air and fluttering to the ground.  Despite an intensely hot shower and a few Aspirin, he still felt a ball of rage ricocheting around inside him.  Chaotic.  Rage.

“Don’t know.  She won’t say, she’s just crying and asking when you’re going to talk to her.”  Dwight shifted his weight, eyes darting around the room nervously. 

Reinforcements came with a knock at the door.  Dwight opened it, attempting to hide the relief on his face. Sherry marched in, a grim look set on her face.  She wore the usual black dress, crumpled and untidy after a rough night.  Her usually smooth hair was rumpled, and she was barefoot.  _Rough night for everyone,_ Negan observed.

“What the fuck do you want?” he growled.

“She made a mistake.”  Sherry’s voice was hoarse, straining to fill the room and falling short.   “A big one, a fucking colossal mistake.  Demote her as a wife, stick her in cleaning duty, but don’t-“

Negan strode over to her, so quickly she blinked in surprise.  He always liked how surprised people were by his speed.  All the swagger and leaning would make you think he was half in the bag, slow reflexes.  That was the beauty in it- let them underestimate you.

He grabbed her by the back of the neck, hissing, “Don’t you ever fuckin’ tell me what I shouldn’t fuckin’ do.  Do you forget who calls the fuckin’ shots around here?  Who these people _kneel_ to?  It sure as shit ain’t you, so don’t you fuckin’ lose sight of who’s in charge here, honey.” She winced and grabbed his hand, pulling weakly to release her.  He looked at her a moment longer and roughly let go, her neck jolting from the movement.  Her eyes narrowed, hatred burning in her eyes.  Negan stared back, his eyes growing darker.  Daring her.  She stole a glance at Dwight, and said nothing.

“That’s fuckin’ right.” He pointed the end of Lucille at Sherry.  “Where the fuck did she get the pills?  I _know_ that pretty little head of hers ain’t smart enough to make it herself.”

“I don’t know.”

He leaned in closer, lips inches from her ear.  “Did you know about this a few weeks back when Frankie fought her?”

Sherry swallowed, tears in her eyes as she stared vacantly at the wall in front of her.  “N-no.”

He turned her chin gently towards his face, forcing her to look at him.  He traced a finger gently on her chin.  _God, she is beautiful,_ he couldn’t help thinking.  “Now, honey, don’t lie to me.  You _know_ I don’t like lyin’.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek.  “Yes, alright?  I knew what she intended, but not how.  I thought we scared her out of it.  I thought it was done, a stupid whim of an idea.”

“And you didn’t think this information was fucking vital to pass along?”

She looked into his eyes, that same fucking defiant look that lingered in Rick the Prick’s eyes when he looked at Negan.

 _Monster_.

“What we talk about when you aren’t here, isn’t any of your business.”

Negan broke into a slow smile, his eyes black and glistening.  A shark on the hunt that caught the scent of blood.  Sherry sensed her error, but straightened her back and stared back at Negan through narrowed eyes.  He had to admit, he always admired the balls on Sherry, but they were fucking inconvenient right now.  “Oh, that’s it, is it?  Amber breaks MY rule, and it’s none of my fuckin’ business?  Amber tries to fuckin’ KILL me, and it’s none of my goddamn business?”  He leaned in close, so close Sherry flinched slightly.  She stood her ground.  “Then tell me, _darling wife,_ why the fuck are you still here?” he hissed.

“Because, if I leave, then you’ll kill the man I actually love,” she spat through clenched teeth.  Dwight stepped forward, but stopped when he saw Negan’s face.

Sherry leaned in closer to Negan, her finger pointing at his chest.  “ _I know you._   You think you’re saving people, that you are keeping people safe by killing a few people here and there, to keep them in line. You’re wrong.  Fear is a tactic for the weak.  And that’s what you use: fear and intimidation.”  Negan began breathing heavily, counting silently down from ten in his head.  He pictured what Lucille would look like coated in Sherry’s blood, but pushed that thought down.  Sherry continued, unfazed.  “I think what _really_ bothers you about Rick and his group isn’t that he fights you tooth and nail.  I’ve talked to Daryl and Eugene, about their time there.  His people are loyal to their last breath, and he doesn’t threaten or blackmail them like _you._   Rick bothers you because he’s the leader _you never will be._ You are a monster, Negan.”

_Monster._

Before Negan could respond, she turned on her heels and stormed out of the room.  Glasses rattled with the heavy door slamming, and loose papers scattered once more. Dwight stood frozen, torn between following Sherry and waiting for Negan.  Either way, he was good as dead.

Negan was still breathing heavily, eyes and heart full of fire.  He stared at the closed door for a moment.  He wasn’t often speechless, but Sherry had hit hard.  Kidney shot- the kind that smarts the next day and has you pissing blood.  He grabbed Lucille and began wordlessly slamming her into the bar, glass shards flying everywhere and liquor exploding onto the walls and floor.

He walked up to Dwight, an inch away from his face.  “Get someone up here to clean this shit up.”  Eye to eye, Dwight had no escape except to slide along the wall to the door, Negan never breaking eye contact.  Dwight could swear he could hear a low growl from Negan as he slipped out of the room.

Sherry didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about.  Rick bothered Negan because of that fucking look in his eye, the fight still left that no death threats seemed to quell.  Except temporarily by threatening Carl, but Negan hated resorting to that.  He liked the little one-eyed bastard.  And look where loyalty got his people, two of them with their brains bashed in (granted, that was Negan who did the bashing) and the fat lady got shot.  But if it wasn’t the Saviors, it would have been some other group.  At least Negan saw people as a resource, as valuable, then slaughtering them all.  Something about cracking eggs to make an omelet.  

He sat down heavily in his leather-bound chair, and glared at the scraps of papers that still remained.  Most of them were mainly communications from outposts and internal reports, things to pour over when there wasn’t a crises going on. _What the fuck am I going to do about Amber?_ Shit, he hadn’t even thought about The Order since they arrived back at Sanctuary, and they were another pain in his ass.

Maybe Sherry was right, the smug bitch.  Rick’s leadership was vastly different to Negan’s, and although he had the upper hand now, would that really last forever?  Rick certainly didn’t have wives trying to murder him on top of his other fucking problems.

 _I’ve got too many fucking cooks in my kitchen,_ he thought.  The door knocked softly and two terrified residents whose names he couldn’t recall scurried in, muttering about cleaning up the mess.  They swept and mopped, throwing nervous glances his way.  Their skittishness was irritating him, so Negan stood up and left them to it, they’d probably work faster with him gone anyways.

He wandered around the hallways until he realized he had arrived at the wives’ quarters. _Might as well get this shit over with._ As the big door groaned open, he was greeted with sullen stares and tear-streaked faces.  Amber sat on the sofa, staring off into oblivion.  She didn’t look up when she heard Negan, but closed her eyes, fat tears rolling down her red-blotched cheeks.  Frankie and Tanya sat on each side of her, patting her back and holding her hand.

“Well don’t look too fuckin’ happy to see me,” he said, storming past the guards posted at the door.

“You,” he pointed to Amber.  “Come here.”  She bit back a sob and walked shakily over to him.  He grabbed her wrist firmly, pulling her into one of the wives’ empty rooms.  His jaw clenched as she sniffled along.  It took every inch of his self-control to not drag her by her hair, and they both knew it.  , He slammed the door shut and slung Lucille over his shoulder.

“Sit.”  He gestured to an overstuffed armchair with a magazine flung over the armrest.  He leaned against the opposite wall, watching her through dangerous eyes.

She obeyed.  They looked at each other a moment, husband and wife, more in words than spirit.

“I-I’m sorry,” she started.  He held his hand up and her mouth snapped shut.

“No.  Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.  You.  Are.  Not.  Sorry.” He walked over slowly, each step like a nail in a coffin.  _Tap.  Tap.  Tap._ He leaned in close, so close he could see her heartbeat pounding in the vein on her neck.  “You’re _sorry_ you got caught.  If I was dead, you wouldn’t be sorry.”

“Please make it quick,” Amber whispered.

“Well now, honey, I haven’t quite decided on that yet.  Despite _your_ desire to kill me, and my subsequent fuckin’ _rage_ that I am filled with right now…  I have no desire to kill _you_ , dear wife.”  He chuckled bitterly.  “And they call _me_ the fuckin’ monster.”

He sat in front of her on the edge of his desk, her eyes level with his belt.  Lucille was resting on his shoulder as he leaned down and tilted her chin towards his face.  He propped his leg on the arm of the chair, preventing her from getting up.  His eyes burned with anger and with hurt.

“I’m going fuckin’ ask one time, and you _will_ answer me.  When I am fuckin’ satisfied, you will go to your room, pack your fuckin’ shit, and get the _fuck_ out of here.  Take your mom and Mark or whatever goddamn useless dick you want to drag along, but you ain’t fuckin’ welcome here anymore.  If I see you again, Lucille will be caving in your pretty skull.  If my men see you out in the wild, they will shoot on sight.  You will put as much fuckin’ land as possible between you and Sanctuary, and fast.  You fuckin’ hear me?”

Tears were steaming down Amber’s eyes, and she simply nodded.  She took a deep breath in, lips trembling.

“Good, honey.  Now, who the fuck made those pills for you?”

Amber swallowed hard and looked into Negan’s eyes.  “Before I tell you, I lied to him about who it was for.  If he knew, he wouldn’t have done it.  I swear,” she pleaded, “I swear, Negan!”

“Shhhh, honey.  I’ll the fuckin’ judge of that.  Tell me who the fuck made the pills.”

She blinked, lip trembling.  “Ahhhh, shit…it was-Eugene.  Eugene made them.  He didn’t know they were for you, though!  I told them they were for me!  He refused and refused, and I kept asking.  I-I finally blackmailed him.  He’s scared of you and I told him I’d tell you that he was spying on you for Rick.  He finally gave up.  Please, don’t hurt him-” she sobbed.  “He didn’t know…”

Negan slammed Lucille against the wall, leaving tiny scratches in the paint.  Amber shut up fast, chest shaking from holding in sobs.  He smiled slowly.  Dangerously.

“You think I would hurt Eugene over _you?_   Dr. Smartypants over there is my fuckin’ best resource beside having a doctor.  Oh, there will be a punishment of some fuckin’ magnitude, believe you me.” He leaned in close, his voice a low growl.  “What the fuck have you done around here, besides spread your legs and drink yourself fuckin’ stupid?  You were doing that before you were my wife, down in the fuckin’ laundry rooms or kitchen or whatever shithole job you came from.  You hear me?  You were fuckin’ _nothing,_ and you still will be out there.”  Her face twisted in pain, each word like a dagger that wounded.  He stood up, looking at her for a minute longer, disgusted.  “Get the fuck out.”

She glanced around uncertainly.  “This is my room, Negan…”

He took another look around, not realizing where he’d dragged her in.  “Hah!  Even in a rage I’ve got good fuckin’ navigation skills.”  Amber gave a pained smile in return.  “My order still stands, get the fuck out.  Go tell the others.”

Amber nodded and fled, as if he might change his mind suddenly and bash in her head.

 _I might just still,_ he thought.

He stuck his head out the door and yelled for Dwight.  He showed up a few seconds later, looking relieved as he passed Amber in the wives’ common room, alive.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Get everyone the fuck outside, by the front gates.  _Now_.”

/ / / / /


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 “And then I said, that’s not my gun, that’s a dirty ol’ boot!”

Shrieks of laughter filled the rec room from the players of Double Gin.  The once-full gin bottle was now teetering near empty, the game itself half-forgotten, as the group of ladies chattered and swapped stories.  The conversation was light, funny stories from the past that never delved too deep.  They all had enough grief to fill the halls of Sanctuary and let it spill out, and these nights were for forgetting the shit world they were in.   Jenna wiped away tears of laughter and handed Lucy the bottle, winking.

“See, we may not have jack-shit here, but we can still have some fun!” she said.

Lucy smiled and took a swig, passing the bottle to a red-haired woman with a wheezy cackle, Virginia, who worked in the lonely Sanctuary library.  She’d explained to Lucy that she catalogued books they’d found on scavenging, cataloguing the most useful ones and sorting the others to be sold in the market or kept in the library.  Virginia swirled the contents of the bottle, judging there was just enough left.  She took a deep swig and slammed the empty bottle down in the middle.  The women all cheered, then booed as they realized they were now out of booze.

Just as Joanie was revving up the story about her ex-husband, a pound of weed, and an unfortunate goat, the rec room doors burst open.  Dwight appeared looking grim, and the room fell in a hush.

He glanced around, avoiding Lucy’s eyes.  “Negan wants everyone out by the front gates.  Now.”

Joanie set her cards down as they all looked around in confusion.  “It’s late…why? What’s happening?”

Dwight just looked at her a moment, then turned and left the room. The women exchanged glances as they straightened themselves up, heading out the door.  Someone had procured breath mints that were passed around.

“I mean, Dwight always looks like someone shit in his cereal, but he looks particularly shit-cerealed tonight…this can’t be good,” Jenna muttered.  “Negan calling everyone out this late?  Someone’s gonna die.”  Joanie shushed her, but no one seemed to disagree.  Lucy felt a pit in her stomach.  _The poison._ _Did he find out what happened?_

There already was a crowd gathering by the front gates, split in half on each side.  The rain had let up, leaving the smell of wet asphalt hanging in the air.  Lights illuminated the front gates, and some residents held lanterns to provide light.  Hushed murmurs flowing around like water in a brook, bumping against rocks and branches.  Somewhere a small child was sniffling softly, another cried out for its mother before being gently hushed.

Lucy looked up to the sky.  Dark clouds were still overhead, not visible in the black night, but she could see no stars.  The air felt electric, the hint of a heavy storm brewing from the earlier rain.  Some of Negan’s men were setting up spotlights on the outskirts of the crowd.  Most looked confused and afraid, the tension palpable.  Someone coughed.

The front door of the factory burst open and Negan swaggered out, Lucille slung over his shoulder.  The crowd knelt, Jenna grabbing Lucy’s arm to drag her down too.

Negan surveyed the crowd carefully, walking through the center clearing in the crowd.  Heads bent lower as he passed, whispered prayers lilted like rain pattering the cement.  When he got to the front gate, he turned around and looked out at the crowd with narrowed eyes.  He nodded to a Savior nearby who opened the gate slightly, just enough for a person to walk through.  As he scanned the crowd, Negan spotted some of children in the crowd and muttered something to Dwight.  Dwight walked around to the parents and guardians, murmuring in their ear.  Each one gave Dwight a grateful smile, a respectful nod towards Negan and scooped up the child to run inside without a glance backwards.

Feet shifted uncomfortably, knees ached.

Negan straightened up, his eyes nearly black in the low light as he addressed the kneeling crowd.  “We, the Saviors, keep _you_ people safe.  We provide food, shelter, water, and the comforts of a fuckin’ civilized society.  If anyone does not _like_ our system, you may leave at any time.  All we ask is that you follow a few simple rules.”

He paused a minute, weighing the crowd.  Lucy’s knees were screaming on the hard asphalt.  She glanced over at Jenna, who was still gripping her hand.  She sensed Lucy and squeezed her hand a little.  _I’m here,_ it seemed to say. 

Negan continued.  “Rules keep us safe, rules keep us _alive._ And no one is fuckin’ exempt from these rules.  Not even _my lovely wives_.”  Negan glanced around, and located the lovely wives standing dutifully by the front door.  Sherry had an arm around Frankie, who was trembling.  Mascara ran down her cheeks.  Tanya stood stone-faced, emotionless.

He began pacing down the center of the crowd, looking around.  “How many of you have we rescued from the shitstorm out there?  How many have we rescued from raiders and rapists?  _Too fuckin’ many_.  People are how we survive, together.  But we will only survive if we follow the fuckin’ rules.”

He paused.  “As you were!”

The crowd stood up, some clinging to one another for aid.  Negan looked around, his dark eyes murky and hard to read.  “What we have had is a betrayal of _our_ fuckin’ rules.  A disrespect to our way of life.  Not once, but two goddamn times!  Now, I cannot be accused of being a forgiving man, but I do _try_ to be fair.”

He gestured towards the front doors, and Snake opened the doors.  Amber walked out, no longer in her wives’ clothing but now dressed in everyday clothes, a backpack slung over her shoulder.  Her face was red and puffy, eyes swollen from crying.  An older woman followed behind with a terrified look on her face.

 _“Amber’s mother,”_ Jenna whispered.

Behind Amber and her mother, a man with bandages wrapped over half his face trailed behind, hollow-eyed.  They walked forward cautiously, eyeing the crowd.  The bandaged man took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling slowly.  Lucy realized that was probably Mark, Amber’s boyfriend that she had cheated on Negan with.  _Was it cheating if you never wanted to break up in the first place?  If you had to marry for survival?_

It was never a good sign when Negan called everyone together.  Examples were made.

Lucy’s heart was pounding.  Her stomach was turning, a warning of things to come.  Something wasn’t right.  Something bad was going to happen, and everyone would have a front-row seat.

Negan smiled at the approaching group, a shark spotting a tasty school of fish.  Lucy didn’t like that smile.  He strolled towards them, swinging Lucille slightly as he walked, almost with a bounce in his step.  “Now, the first instance of rule-breakin’ was punished and forgiven.  My wives have one rule that I make clear from the fuckin’ start: don’t cheat.  However, I do not take fuckin’ kindly to _attempted fuckin’ murder._ ”  The crowd murmured, some with suspicions confirmed, others hearing this news for the first time.

“Now, you all might view exile as a much easier penance than an iron to the fuckin’ face, or-“  He twirled Lucille a little,  “This lovely girl to the skull.  However, that will last what- a few minutes of fuckin’ agony?  Exile is for the rest of their _lives._   Exile means no Sanctuary, no fuckin’ Hilltop, no Kingdom, nothing.  If I find them at any of these settlements, I will burn them to the ground.  If _any_ of you encounter them out in the world, out scavenging, it is fair fuckin’ game.  They are no longer under Savior protection.  They are no longer our people.  And let me tell you, it is a fuckin’ _dangerous_ world out there.”

Amber, her mother, and Mark stood facing the crowd.  Negan stood grinning, several feet in front of them, with Lucille balanced on his shoulder.  In order to make it to the gates, they had to walk past Negan.  He gave the slightest of nods, and they began walking forward in silence.  A pin drop could be heard as the crowd held their breath and watched the group approach Negan to get to the gates.  Someone cleared their throat and feet shuffled uncomfortably.  Negan’s eyes never left Amber.

As they approached, he took a step to the side to allow them to pass, sweeping his arm wide in an exaggerated gesture.  Amber and her mother made it first, tears streaming down their eyes.  When Mark walked past, Negan suddenly swung Lucille down in front of his chest.  Mark stopped suddenly so he wouldn’t hit Lucille’s barbs.  Mark’s unbandaged eye grew wild, Lucy could see the whites in his eyes from her place in the crowd.  Negan stared Mark down, smiling the whole time.

Amber and her mother continued forward, unaware.  By the time they reached the gate, Amber turned around and gasped.  The Savior at the gate shoved Amber and her mother through, as Amber screamed, “NO!”  The gates creaked shut, Amber clung on desperately and rattled the metal, shrieking.

Mark swallowed hard.  Negan still stared at him, jaw shifting slightly as he thought through his next move.  “Now, exile is a punishment in itself, one we have not fuckin’ utilized often.  But, now that I fuckin’ think about it, I am not fuckin’ satisfied.”  He jabbed Lucille towards Mark, who took a step back. 

“I need blood to forgive.  Lucille _needs_ blood.”

Mark began to stammer, “Please, Negan, I’ll just leave…please… You’ll never see our sorry faces again!  I promise!”

Negan smiled.  “Oh, I know I won’t.”  He put Lucille on Mark’s shoulder, and pressed down hard.  Mark yelped as Lucille’s barbs punctured his shoulder, tiny blood droplets bloomed on his t-shirt.  Mark knelt down, sobbing softly, snot dribbling down his nose.  Negan leaned forward and said, “You gonna piss your pants again, like when I ironed the shit out of your face?”  Mark squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a sob.

Negan laughed and shook his head.  “Pussy.”

“I’m SORRY!” Mark cried, dropping down to all fours, sobbing and grabbing at Negan’s boots in desperation.

Negan looked at Mark for a moment, a look of disgust on his face.  “This gives me no pleasure, Mark.” He turned to Amber, pointing Lucille at her.  Amber cried out, screaming for Negan to stop, to let them go.

“And you!  You fuckin’ bitch.  This is happening, because YOU. BROKE. THE RULES.” He turned around and swung, swung hard into Mark’s bandaged face.  Lucille cracked into his head, a sickening crunch filled the air.  The crowd gasped, someone screamed.  Negan turned to look at them all, his eyes full of rage. “DO NOT FUCKING LOOK AWAY!”

Lucy felt nauseous.  Her fingers were going numb as Jenna and her clasped their hands together tightly.

Mark spat blood and gurgled.  Negan swung again, connecting with his skull again.

Home run.  Mark’s skull caved in slightly, blood pouring out from his bandages.  His eyes held life for a second longer, then drained as he exhaled.  Blood splattered the ground.  Negan’s shirt was speckled with blood, more pooled around his boots.  He grunted and pulled Lucille off of Mark’s head with a little difficulty, the barbs lodged deeply in.  Mark’s body collapsed to the ground, lifeless.  Negan slung Lucille back over his shoulder, blood and gore oozing off his lady.  She was satisfied.

He flashed a grin at the crowd.  “Only two hits, not fuckin’ shabby!”  The crowd was silent.

Amber let out a wail and began sobbing, rattling the gate as she clung onto it for dear life.  “Open the fucking gate,” Negan growled.  He picked up Mark’s body by the back of the shirt and dragged him towards Amber.  When the gate was opened wide enough, he heaved Mark’s body out towards Amber.

“ _Now_ you may fuckin’ leave,” he growled at her through the gate.  Amber screamed and lunged, trying to claw at him through the wire of the gate.  Negan just looked on, an amused look on his face, which seemed to push Amber into more of a rage.

Amber’s mother grabbed Mark’s backpack, still attached to his body, and then finally grabbed her daughter.  She smoothed her hair and cooed softly, and dragging her away.  Amber’s sobs grew distant as the darkness swallowed them.  Negan turned to the crowd and nodded, permission for them to disperse.

Everyone was silent from shock and fear.  They went back to their own lives, to try to sleep and forget Mark’s caved in skull, or Amber’s wails haunting the air.  Lucy felt sick.  Jenna still clung to her hand, but was gently whispering to Joanie and patting her back with her free hand.

Negan sighed and wiped his mouth, catching Lucy’s eye as he walked back towards the front.  He hesitated, as if waiting for her to approach.  The rage in his eyes softened slightly, almost a hint of guilt flickering.  Lucy dropped Jenna’s hand and turned away, unable to look at him without seeing Mark’s crushed skull.

“I’m going back to the workshop,” she told Jenna. “I’ll see you around.”  Jenna gave her a sad smile.  “Understood, honey.  Try to get some sleep.” Lucy nodded and watched Jenna and Joanie head inside Sanctuary.

Back in the workshop, Lucy nearly felt the comfort of home that can melt away the dangers of outside.  She navigated to the back room in the dark, only tripping into one stray box of scraps.  In her little storeroom, she changed into some pajamas and crawled onto her cot as rain began to patter on the room.  _The rain will wash away the blood_ , she thought numbly.  She hoped it wouldn’t be there in the morning, as if this terrible evening never happened.

The ceiling in the storeroom had cheap insulated tiles, speckled with dots.  Lucy began counting the tiles in the dim light, trying to erase what had just happened from her memories.  She knew Negan was brutal when she met him, it seemed to course easily through his veins.  But it was different to be there, to witness the blood and gore, pain and screaming that came along with it.  What happened to the man from the cabin?  Caring, flirtatious, teasing, warm.  He didn’t abandon her when she was in her fugue state, and held her when she needed it later.  Did that charming man from the cabin hide in darkness when the brutal one came out to play, or were they one and the same?  Was her own darkness a part of her, or something separate that she could exorcise, banish from her being?

The door to the workshop clanged.  _Eugene._   Lucy jumped up and threw on her jacket to go greet him.  Maybe even give him a hug, she really needed a hug right now.  She hadn’t seen him in the crowd, but she hadn’t been looking.  Maybe he could help process these thoughts in his detached, clinical way.  When she reached the front door, however, a Savior was there instead, dripping from the rain in the shadows of the doorway.  Lucy gave him a confused look and zipped up her jacket, unsure of this stranger.  She smiled, feeling awkward as he just stood there.  “Hi, what do you need?”

The man stepped forward into the light.  Lucy’s stomach dropped.  This Savior, she was pretty sure his name was David, had that look in his eye.  That look, a hunger that she wanted no part of.  Not like Negan’s hunger, when he looked at her like she was a big slice of birthday cake, sweet and delicious.  This look, this hunger in David’s eyes, was the hunger of predator, cornering its prey.

“Hi there.  You’re real pretty,” he said, swaying a little.  Drunk.

Lucy smiled nervously and scanned the room quickly.  There were plenty of potential weapons in here: pipes, wrenches, knives galore.  Dave had a one-up though, his gun.  He sauntered towards her, feigning a bored look as he glanced around the room.

“You and that Dr. Smartypants have been awful busy in here.”

Lucy took a few steps backwards.  “Yep.  Real busy.  In fact, he’s due back in a few minutes.  Did Negan send you in?”

“You don’t kneel for him.  Negan.  Except when that chick pulled you down today.  Why don’t you kneel?  Everyone does.”  Dave looked at the contents of a table, picking through some miscellaneous brackets and bolts.  He took a few more steps forward towards Lucy, eyeing her up and down.  He smiled.  Lucy felt sick.

“I-I don’t know.  I just don’t.  Did Negan send you?”  Two steps back.

“Maybe.  He’s been awful busy.” Another step forward.

Her back was pressed against the wall now.  While he lazily picked over some blueprints, she quietly slid a nearby tire iron off the table and grasped it behind her back.  It was thin, but sturdy, and would do in a pinch.

She smelled alcohol and something else foul on him as he closed the gap between them.  “You don’t like kneeling?  I could make you kneel, honey.”  He put his hand on the wall next to her head and leaned in.  She tightened her grip, mentally calculating whether his groin or ribcage would be a better strike zone. 

 _I wish a bus would just smash through the wall and crush him,_ she thought hysterically.  _I’d even take Lucille cracking him over the skull right about now._  She pictured David’s head caving in instead of Mark’s.

Suddenly the door clanged open, letting in a rush of cold wind and splattering of rain.

Eugene emerged from the doorway, blotchy-faced and red.  He held a jar of pickles closely in his left arm, and held a half-eaten pickle in his right hand.  When he saw Dave lurching over Lucy, a tire iron gripped discretely in her hand, his expression changed.  His straightened up and walked forward as Dave stepped away.  He set the jar of pickles down on a nearby table.

“Are you here on official business from Negan, or just the harassment of my employee?” Eugene asked.  “I presume you are needed elsewhere at this time, what with the Order business occupying much of Negan’s time.  But judging by your current demeanor and the glassiness of your eyes, you sir, are unfit for duty.  I would recommend retiring to your quarters to, as they say, ‘sleep this one off.’  Perhaps if you leave immediately, we will keep this one between ourselves.  Understood?”

Lucy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  Maybe both.  Dave sneered at Eugene and stormed out muttering, slamming the door behind him.  Lucy exhaled and ran to Eugene, giving him a huge kiss on the cheek and throwing her arms around him.  “You’re an angel!” she cried. 

Eugene stood awkwardly, hands out as if afraid to touch her.  When she let go, he dropped the pickle and began to cry.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, guiding him to a chair to sit down.

“Lucy, I have made a grave error.  Perhaps the gravest in my life.”  He began to tell her about the pills, how Amber had begged him to help her out of her misery, eventually resorting to blackmailing him.  Lucy handed him a clean rag as he sobbed, wiping his face.  “I eventually gave in, I figured if she did go to Negan, who would he believe?  Myself, essentially a hostage from another community, or his wife?  Lucy, he will- he will kill me.  He caught me after the-after the events that transpired tonight and he said he would be by later to ‘talk.’  I do not presume to think that talk means anything other then-“  he choked and buried his face in the rag.

Lucy patted his back and looked around the workshop.  _Negan likes usefulness, resourcefulness_.  If they could just come up with a really good idea, an idea in which Eugene played an essential part, maybe they could distract him from his anger.

She rubbed Eugene’s back some more until he seemed to settle down.  She eyed the jar of pickles.  “Why’d you have a jar of pickles when you came in?”

Eugene sniffled.  “If it is my last night on this world, I at least wanted some comfort of food.  We do not have much variety in that regard, but I have always been fond of pickles.”

Lucy bit back a smile and fetched him a pickle from the jar.  He accepted it gratefully, and had a thoughtful look on his face as he crunched away.

The rush from David’s earlier intrusion made her shudder.  But suddenly a lightbulb switched on, a veritable _ding_! could practically be heard.  A smile played at her lips.

“Eugene, I got an idea.  A good one.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

**_Chapter 18_ **

 

_One down, three to go._

Negan took a long drink of whiskey, straight from a bottle hidden in his desk.  He’d examined the seal before drinking, looking for any telltale signs of interference.  Open drinks made him a little nervous at the moment, even now he was rotating the bottle a little to see if there was any suspicious film or smell.  There wasn’t, but he remained unconvinced.

It had been a helluva evening. Killing Mark was unfortunate, and not necessarily planned.  But, it was needed.  Not for Amber, it was pretty bad for her.  A tiny flutter of regret bloomed in his belly, but it died after another long sip.  Mark would have been useful out there, in the real world, but Negan needed to kill him for the message.  _Don’t fuck with me._

On some fucked up bright side, only Negan and his wives supposedly knew about Eugene providing the poison.  That was a predicament that Negan hated to be in.  Usefulness or punishment?  What was more important?  Dr. Smartypants was incredibly useful, and incredibly terrified of Negan, a combination that worked out advantageously.

 _You’re gonna need him in the war to come,_ he thought.  He flexed his gloved hands, feeling the muscles stretch.  The dead were a lot easier to kill, their rot gave away easier.  Killing the living always left him a little sore, not that he would admit that.

Negan capped the whiskey and shoved it back in his desk, concealed under random bits of paper.  Lucille was propped up against the wall next to him. dripping tiny rivulets of blood on the office floor.  He grabbed her and began cleaning her off in the bar’s tiny sink.  It had been a few hours, and the blood on her barbs was beginning to dry.  He still didn’t have a punishment in mind for Eugene, but just watching the poor mulleted-bastard piss himself in terror would be a step in the right direction.   Lucy would be in the workshop, too.  Did he want to see her, though?  He always did, but she’d had a look in her eyes after the front gates, a worrying one to Negan.  Like he was a dog that shit on the rug.  Disappointment.

Mark’s blood circled the drain, swirling around and around until disappearing down the drain.  _The fucking Order._  Another thorn in his side to take care of.

After Lucille was carefully dried off to prevent any rusting, Negan made his way down to the workshop.  It was pouring, a summer storm that seemed to sense the general mood and blew out of nowhere.  Oh well, at least it created some _atmosphere._ A few Saviors trailed behind him until he turned and jerked his thumb back to the factory.  “Wait the fuck inside.  If there’s a poker game going on, you are fuckin’ excused if there’s enough patrols out.”  It must be close to ten, eleven o’clock at night.  Give ‘em some down time to take the edge off of today.  Negan was always a little softer with his people after a killing, not many had the stomach to do what had to be done.

 _Lucy thinks you’re a monster now,_ he thought as he approached the workshop door.  No she didn’t…did she?  _Shit.  Getting fucking goofy over a girl._  He stood for a minute outside the door under a tiny overhang that protected him from the rain.  He could hear the murmur of voices and an occasional clatter.  Lucy’s laughter followed by swearing from her sore ribs.

Sufficiently psyched, he swung open the door a little too heavily and it slammed into the wall.   Conveniently a thunderclap that filled the air as he stood in the doorway, a dark figure illuminated by a flash of lightening.  He hoped it looked as badass as it felt.

Lucy and Eugene were hunched over a bench, the sauntering iron providing a glow to their goggled faces.  At sound of the door they both jumped up, startled by the noise.  Negan whistled and strolled in, Lucille slung over his shoulder as per usual.  When Eugene realized who it was, he dropped the sauntering iron in his haste to kneel and immediately backed against the wall.  The tip of iron smoked and left scorches on the concrete floor before Eugene scrambled to switch it off.

Lucy flung off her goggles and approached Negan with raised hands and a calm face like a skilled negotiator.  Halfway through she hesitated and knelt quickly, with a slight wobble.  Before he gave his leave, she stood with a wince and marched towards him.  _God, she looks fucking hot when she’s full of spitfire._   “Long day, huh?” she said, eyeing him up and down.

_She can read you like a fucking book._

“It sure fuckin’ has, doll, sure fuckin’ has.  Sorry you had to see that earlier.  Sorry everyone did, but they _had_ to, you know?”  Negan licked his lips and leaned on a nearby table, staring at Eugene, trying to not look at Lucy.  _I know what you’re trying to do, darlin’_.

Lucy swallowed and glanced back at Eugene.  “Yeah.  It sucks, but I guess I get it.”  Negan could feel her looking at him deeply, but he didn’t break his contact with Eugene, who was still kneeling and now making odd whimpering noises.  Lucy moved her body in front of Negan’s eyeline to Eugene so he was forced to look at her. 

“I don’t _agree_ with it, but I get it.” She stepped closer to him, now only a foot or so apart and took a deep breath.  “Eugene told me everything, we don’t have to pussyfoot around what’s going on.  He supplied Amber with the poison after she blackmailed him, using his fear of you to get her supply.  Honest.  He thought you’d believe her that he was a spy.” She pointed to Eugene, whose face was pinched up trying to hold in sobs.  He nodded vigorously in agreement.  “Who else knows, Negan?”

Negan ran his tongue over his teeth.  “The wives.  Me.  You.”

“None of your men?  Dwight, even?”

“No.”

Lucy smiled.  “Well then, that makes things easier.  You gotta provide a punishment, I know that.  Eugene should have come to you immediately, he knows that.”  More vigorous nodding from Eugene.  Negan’s eyes narrowed.  _She’s good._   _She’s fucking good._

“First, we’ve got something to show you.  Our next project, which I need Eugene in order to properly execute.”  She flinched.  “Oops, too soon.  Sorry, bad choice of words.  Anyways.  Eugene, get the controls.”  She gestured to a stool for Negan to sit on.

A few minutes later, she had built a little wall of discarded beer and soda cans, almost lined up like bowling pins.  Little army men lined up on either side.

Lucy used a long stick as a pointer.  “This here’s a wall.  The cans are weighted a little with some washers and bits of metal just to give them some weight for the demo.  The army guys can be walkers, or bad guys, or both.  Use your imagination.  Eugene?”

Suddenly a radio-controlled car zoomed out from under a table, about the size of a loaf of bread.  It had some modifications: a long pole with a flat end was latched up on the windshield with three little pigs crudely drawn on the end, some metal pieces covered part of the windows, and it appeared to have some sort of shields over the tires.  Negan laughed as it zoomed out and aligned itself with the little scene of army men and cans.

Lucy nodded at Eugene, and it zipped forward.  The pole suddenly popped free, forming a T-shaped battering ram that blasted through the army men and the cans, scattering bits of metal, army men, and cans over the floor.

Lucy picked up the car and walked it over to Negan to show him the various modifications.  “This is a model of the Big Bad Wolf, or BBW, a modified car that acts as a battering ram.  Useful for tactical infiltration, especially if The Order ramps up their shit.  We’ll need to add hydraulics to the real thing’s battering ram, to soften the impact of the ram drop and prevent the force from tearing the shit out of it.”  She rotated the car a little, giving Negan a better view.  “It can also be used with walkers, the window shields will be made from fencing material up top, so rifle barrels can fit through, but metal shields protecting the bottom half.  We’ll put in some safety measures too, a hatch or something so it doesn’t become a deathbox if surrounded.”

Negan took the car and turned it around in his hands, meticulously looking over the car.  Lucy continued. “We’re still figuring out how the tire shields will work, we may have to scrap that and just find puncture-proof tires.  Getting the weight distribution will be tricky too, it was easy on the model to add washers to the back.  But on the real thing, when the battering ram is released, if the weight is wonky the car could just take a nose dive, or the bouncing could tear the ram off and crush the engine.  I’m also going to add something to the roof possibly, a little shielded sniper’s nest type deal that would also be an escape hatch.”

Negan held up the car and looked at Lucy and Eugene.  “You two can make me this?  A fuckin’ real one?”

Lucy nodded.  “We think so.  I can do all the outside stuff, but I need Eugene to help with making sure the calculations are correct, and to get the hydraulics right.  We’ll also need to modify the inside to be able to handle the extra weight, and it’ll need to be walker-proof from bits of bone and shit getting lodged inside the front grill and undercarriage.  I don’t really know the insides of cars well, Eugene knows a bit more but we will need some of your men, at least one of the mechanics to help consult.  We’ve already got some frames here we could use, but an MRAP would be better.”

Negan frowned and fiddled with the little car.  “An MRAP?  Those military trucks that can drive over bombs and shit?”

“Yeah, they’re tough sons-of-bitches.  There may be some at old military bases or evacuation points.  Of course, The Order has the closest base so we are probably screwed there.  There’s more closer to Atlanta, but it’s dangerous out there.”

 _Would it be weird if I bent her over this desk and fucked her right here?_ Negan wondered, but noticed Eugene still hovering awkwardly in the corner and decided it would be.

“So, this is your next big project?” Negan said, flicking the little battering ram up and down.

Lucy looked at him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction.  “Yep.  What-what do you think?”  she asked.  Eugene remained silent, except for an occasional sniffle.

_This is so fucking cool, this is so fucking cool, this is so fucking cool._

Negan raised his head, trying to keep a poker face as he stared at the two of them.  He was still supposed to be pissed as fuck, and he didn’t want Eugene to get too fucking comfortable.  “Alright.  Write up a list of supplies, I’ll see what we can fuckin’ do.”  He set down the model car and twirled Lucille lazily.  “I see what you are doing here, clever fuckin’ girl.  Distract me with some cool-ass-shit to get fuckin’ Eugene here out of the doghouse.”

Lucy smiled and gave a small shrug.  “So, put him back on points.  Make him earn your trust back.  Take away his nice room, he can stay in the back room here without all his creature comforts.  We all know what the punishment is and the others will see your golden-genius-boy getting punished, although it’s none of their fucking business why.  It’ll convey the message that no one is immune.  Does that work for you?”

Negan blinked at her for a minute, looking into her eyes, really looking into them.  They had little green flecks he hadn’t noticed before.  “Damn,” he said in a low tone, nearly a whisper.  He looked at Eugene, pointing Lucille at him and laughed when he flinched.  “Do you realize how fuckin’ lucky your ass is?  Punishment seems a little _light_ , but you ain’t exactly good at hard fuckin’ living, so it gets the fuckin’ message across.” He looked back at Lucy.  “Alright.  I will _think_ on that and may add some fuckin’ modifications.  But hot damn!”  He gave a huge grin, unable to contain it any longer.  “Look at you, little Miss fuckin’ Negotiator.  I have a few more propositions for you that we can negotiate later…”

Lucy shook her head but smiled.  “Nice try, boss.”

“I love it when you call me boss, darlin’.”  He leaned in closer until Eugene’s sniffling ruined the flirtatious mood he was trying to conjure.  “He ain’t staying with you in the storeroom.  Can you stay indoors yet without freaking the fuck out?  Storm’s awful bad, may linger for another day or two.”  Negan scowled as his eyes trailed down her body.  “Plus you’re still banged the fuck up.  You’re on bedrest for the next few days, go see the doc about your bruised ass and cracked ribs.”

Eugene finally found his voice, and took a few steps towards them.  “Lucy may take my room, if it is agreeable to you, Negan.  She has veritably saved my bacon, so to speak, and deserves to have a nice room during her recuperation.”

Negan turned to Lucy, eyebrows raised in question.  Lucy nodded.  “Alright, don’t need to tell me twice to rest.  We need supplies and shit anyways before we can get started, and Eugene’ll need to work out some math and physics shit that’s beyond me.  I’ll grab some clean sheets.  Sorry Eugene, but I ain’t sleeping in your old funk.”

Negan chuckled but then quickly grew serious.  _Can’t let them think this is all blown over_.  “Alright, my dream fuckin’ team.  Lucy, grab your shit and let’s go inside.”  He turned to Eugene.  “You.  Don’t get too fuckin’ comfortable.  You are on thin fuckin’ ice.  I say jump, you fuckin’ jump.  I say shove that wrench up your ass, you start fuckin’ lubricating.”

Eugene nodded and fell to the ground to pick up the remnants of their demo, picking up the metal bits on the floor and gathering the little army men.  Lucy came from the back room with a small bag of things.  “Even with a more permanent place to stay, I’m still living like a nomad.”

“Look at the bright side doll,” Negan said as they walked out into the rain.  Lucy looked at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for the bright side.  He leaned in close, an inch from her ear as he whispered, “You’re just a hop, skip and a fuckin’ jump from my room.  How’s about we christen your new room by knockin’ boots?”

Lucy snorted and looked back at the workshop.  “It’ll probably be the only action that bed has seen.  Poor Eugene.  And no, I can barely walk, let alone- do anything else.”

“So it’s an option once you are fuckin’ recovered?”

“I’ve had enough negotiating for today, _boss,_ ” she said, jutting out her chin with finality.

Negan laughed and threw his arm over her shoulder as they dashed back to the factory in the rain.

 

/ / / / /

Eugene’s room was absolute heaven compared to the storeroom.  Lucy was okay with rough-living, but was getting accustomed again to this living-indoors-being-civilized life.  Negan had walked her to the room, lingering in the doorway all smiles and smooth words, but she shooed him away eventually, protesting that she needed to take a shower.  That hadn’t exactly helped her cause, and more shooing and vague threats were needed until he finally sauntered off to his room elsewhere.  She didn’t exactly know where it was, she hadn’t been there yet and was fighting off curiosity about how close it actually was.  If there was a heart-shaped vibrating bed in there, she sure wouldn’t be surprised.

Lucy padded back to her room from the showers, drying her hair briskly with a towel and leaving a trail of tiny little droplets. She still couldn’t shake the image of Negan winding up, Lucille at the ready, and _crack._  There was a tiny gleam, a little flicker on his face of enjoyment.  How?  How could you enjoy killing _people?_

_You sure did – killing walkers.  Those were people, one time._

This was different.  She didn’t quite have the words on how exactly it was- but it was.  Amber’s boyfriend wasn’t trying to kill Negan, as far as she knew.  They were about to leave and be gone forever.  The killing was only for a message, really.  What kind of world were they in where that kind of message was needed?  How could she still stand to be around Negan after that?  She still felt little flutters in her stomach in the workshop, the thrill of negotiating with a dangerous man and succeeding.  What was wrong with her?

When she got back to Eugene’s room, she locked the door ( _Sorry Negan, and fuck off Dave)_ and slid into a clean-sheeted bed.  Scarcely did her head hit the pillow, and she was out.  She slept fitfully, dreaming of cracked skulls and blood pooling on asphalt.

She woke the next morning well-rested.  Bright-eyed and bushy tailed, as her dad used to say.  She inspected her bruises in Eugene’s mirror, still a huge welt on her butt and an ugly one on her ribcage.  It had only been a few days, and she felt stiffer than before.

A hesitant knock at the door startled her as she painfully pulled on pants.  ”Hang on,” she huffed as she shoved on a clean t-shirt.

“Hiya, Luce,” Kevin waved sheepishly when she opened the door.  “I’m s’possed to take you to Doc’s then bring you back.”

“What, am I on house arrest?” Lucy laughed.

Kevin grinned and shrugged.  “I think more like bed arrest.” He suddenly blushed, embarrassed.  “I mean-uh- you’re supposed to just be relaxing I guess.  Not…anyways.  So uh, let’s get you to Doc’s clinic.  Follow me.”

The “clinic” was really just a room, currently occupied.  Lucy and Kevin waited outside until the door clicked open, and one of Negan’s wives emerged.  Sherry, Lucy thought her name was.  Kevin muttered a “hello” to Sherry and she gave them both a small sad smile.  When she left, Kevin whispered, “She used to be with Dwight, didja know that?  Her and Dwight? Instead of getting’ killed, Dwight got an iron to the face and Sherry had to marry Negan.  Nasty stuff.”

“ _Had_ to?”

“Well, I guess it was implied he’d die if she didn’t.  You know.  This was a little awhile back, we were set up here but there was still a lot of problems.  Things were a lot worse.  Negan had to do a lot of bad stuff to get everyone on board.”

“What happened?  Why a hot iron or death?”

Kevin shrugged.  “Dunno.  Oh right-I think they tried to escape.  Sherry’s sister didn’t make it.  She had that diabetes shit and needed injections.  They stole her medicine shit but got caught out there and Dwight got the iron.”  Kevin picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.  “He likes having the wives.  Well, he did at least.  Symbol of power, probably.  Although lately-”

Before Kevin could finish, Dr. Cochran peeked around the door and smiled, beckoning Lucy to come in.  Kevin waited around while she was poked and prodded.  Ultimately, it was decided a rib or two may be cracked and she was still slightly malnourished.  More bedrest was prescribed along with a healthy appetite and some mild painkillers, and they were sent on their way back to her room.  Kevin ran down to the kitchens and brought her up a plateful of scrambled eggs and some biscuits, along with an assortment of snacks, then left her be.

It was odd being idle.  She had always had something to do, whether it was surviving or building the maze.  But now, she was actually playing some old video games Eugene had, wondering whether to poke around in some of the books on his bookshelf.  She fell asleep on the sofa before she came to a decision.

_She was in the forest again, the ground wet and bloody and bad.  A noise up ahead, a shifting of earth and crunching leaves.  The roots weren’t so thick this time, easier to move forward.  A man knelt in the clearing.  Instead of ropes around his wrists, barbed wire wrapped tightly punctured his skin, droplets of blood dripping down onto the floor below._

_She reached out and turned him around.  Negan.  His eyes were removed but he seemed to recognize her._

_Tap, tap, tap._

_His face grew angry, eyebrows furrowed together in rage._

_“You did this darlin’.  All your fuckin’ fault, you stupid fuckin’ bitch.  I shoulda walloped Lucille across your noggin when I had the change.”_

_TAP, TAP, TAP_

_She looked around.  What was that noise?_

BANG, BANG, BANG.

Lucy had barely opened her eyes before her door flung open.  She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows.

Negan was striding across the room, artfully holding two plates of food in one hand and Lucille in the other.  He plonked the plates down on her (Eugene’s, really) table and set Lucille in one of the chairs.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you were out.  I was balancing those plates AND Lucille like a fuckin’ asshole, waiting for your majesty to answer the fuckin’ door.  Doc give you some good shit or something?”  He grumbled as he rummaged around the kitchenette, triumphantly locating the silverware in only two shots.  Lucy sat up slowly, feeling dull aches and pains but nothing too unbearable.

“Your doc’s got some good stuff.  I can barely feel my ribs.”  She rubbed her eyes.  “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?  Bringing you fuckin’ dinner.  Doc said you gotta eat more, doll.”  He now pulled the cabinets apart, checking in all of them and shifting their contents around.  “Doesn’t that asshole have any alcohol?  Fuck.”  He went to poke his head out in the hallway, hollering for some nameless eager goon down the hall to bring some bourbon.  “GOOD fuckin’ bourbon,” he emphasized.

As he was hollering, Lucy pushed the blanket off of her and stood up yawning, stretching carefully.  The food smelled good.  She felt pretty good too, just a little woozy from the pills.  Hungry, though.  She padded over to the table, but then realized how dry her mouth was.  _Ugh.  Water._

When Negan turned around and saw her gulping down water, he slammed the door.  “Oh fuck me, do you have to wear that?”  She took a sip and looked down.  She was wearing a thin zip-up hoodie and some workout shorts but granted, they _were_ tiny.  Practically underwear.  “I’m telling you now doll, you keep wearing that and I’m going to be…distracted.”  _Oops._   She would have pulled on pants for modesty’s sake if she had known Negan was coming.

She giggled and shrugged.  “Ain’t my fault.  I’m comfy and you barged in here without sending word earlier.  I guess I shouldn’t show you my cracked ribs, then?  You’ll scarcely be able to contain yourself.”  Pasta tonight.  It smelled really good.  She floated over to the table and began inhaling the food.

Negan snorted and sat down opposite her, also digging in.  “’ _Sendin’ word_ ’.  Buncha Old Time-y bull _shit._  Should I send a fuckin’ telegram boy?  Pony fuckin’ Express?”

“No, but you got like fifty guys around here and Kevin was a goddamn escort (not that kind, you perv) this morning.  Is it so hard to send someone to say you’ll be by later?  Stop laughing!”

Negan set his fork down, grinning.  “I’m sorry doll, but it is just too fuckin’ cute when you’re all worked up.  It’s like a little fuckin’ baby badger or something.”

Lucy took a bite, mumbling, “I don’t even know what that means.”  After a few more bites and a delivery of bourbon (it was the good stuff and the errand boy heaved a sigh of relief).  Lucy frowned, suspicious.   “Why are you bringing me dinner?  Why didn’t Kevin, or Henchman Number 4 or some other Savior?”

Negan’s eyebrows flicked upwards as he poured himself a glass.  He scowled at Lucy when she leaned forward to look at the bourbon pouring.  “You don’t fuckin’ get one because you’re taking pills.  Why the fuck shouldn’t I bring you dinner?  I have a personal interest in your goddamn health and well-being.”

Lucy took a huge mouthful, thinking considerably.  Negan sat back down and finished his last few bites.

“Well this is weird,” she said.

“Everything is fuckin’ weird, so you’ll have to be specific.  We got undead fuckin’ people overrun the entire world as far as we’re concerned and society as we fuckin’ know it has collapsed.  I fuckin’ picked you up at a goddamn cool-as-shit maze you _hand-built your fuckin’ self_ , which we were then chased from by a crazy cult that happened to be targeting me but you happened to murder their people however the fuck long ago.  How am I doing so far?” Negan said, staring intently at Lucy.  She pushed her empty plate forward. 

She thought for a minute.  “That just brings us up to speed ‘til a few weeks ago.  We then go out to meet your settlements that you essentially run, broke down truck, I eat shit and we tromp through the forest for two days only to find out one of your _four wives_ tried to murder you.  Then you kill her boyfriend and exile her and her mom, I guess.  Yeah.  This is fuckin’ weird as shit.”

“Well, we oughtta just fuck then, if it’s already weird.  Can’t make things worse, probably will make things better actually.”

She snorted and pushed his leg from across the table with her foot.  “Stop it, perv.”  She sighed with satisfaction, rubbing her stomach.  “Thanks for bringing me food, though.”  She stood up and shuffled back to the sofa, still a little float-y feeling.  Eugene had quite a few movies, and she felt too goofy to do much else but stare at TV.  “Sweet.  _Stargate_.  You ever see that?  I used to have a major crush on the main guy when I was a kid, forget his name-”

Negan came and sat on one side of the sofa, drink in hand.  “I don’t fuckin’ know.”  He ran his hand through his hair, watching her mess with the VCR.  “Hey…are you- are you mad or upset at all?”  Lucy gave a little laugh as she put the tape in.

“Why would I be mad?  And why the hell would you care if I was?”

“Because I fuckin’ killed someone yesterday, brutally, in front of my people.  I saw the way you looked at me after.”  Negan took a sip, not making eye contact.  Lucy almost felt bad for him, he looked like a kid in the principal’s office, waiting for his punishment.

“Well yeah, that was pretty fucked.  But it’s your settlement.  You’re in charge, your rules.  And she did try and kill you- not that you should have killed that guy, but we don’t exactly live in the same times that we do before.  I wish you would have found another way, but it is what it is.”  She fiddled around trying to find the remote and delay sitting so close to Negan on the sofa.  “Back in the Middle Ages, people didn’t love when the monarchy ordered someone dead, but it was just the way it was done.  Maybe that’s where we are at again.  You seem like the ‘crack a few eggs to make an omlette’ guy.”

“You looked disappointed.”

Lucy sighed.  “What do you want Negan?  Do you want me to get mad and scream at you?  Be scared of you?  Tell you how wrong you are and try to murder you too?  Well, I’m not.  I’m just happy right now to not be dead and have a place to hang my hat for now.  I’m tired of being out there, alone.  Stop psyching yourself out like a nervous old woman and just sit and watch the goddamn movie.  Or, go pout in your room and let me enjoy this beautiful buzz of painkillers on my own.  Your choice.”  She grabbed the blanket and wrapped up, leaning in towards Negan and eventually settling her head on his shoulder.  That settled _that._

“I am _not_ an old woman,” he grumbled, but made no move to leave.  “You’re getting fuckin’ fond of me, honey,” he said, lifting his arm and wrapping it around her.

 “Oh shut up, I’m taking the weight off my bruise and it just so happens to be in your direction, and just so happens to be more comfortable to use you as a pillow.  Don’t think too much about it.”

They settled in as the title credits began to roll.

Negan smiled.  “Sure doll, _whatever you say_.”

/ / / / /

 

**Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks for all the kudos!  Let me know your thoughts so far, I appreciate each and every one of you!**

 

**Take care, xoxo.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Twenty minutes after the movie started, Lucy was out.  Her head had been lolling for a minute before Negan finally felt the heaviness of sleep relax her body.

“Fuckin’ eat a meal and pass out right after.  Typical,” he chuckled to himself quietly.  He hadn’t intended on staying for a movie, just dropping off dinner and putting feelers out on how Lucy was feeling- both physically and towards him.  It wasn’t the slickest move, he felt like an unsure kid in high school, awkward and nervous around the cool girl on campus.  Odd, since he never recalled ever being very unsure or awkward around women, even as a youth.

She was disappointed in him, that much she admitted.  Maybe the painkillers were making her more agreeable, was she actually more mad that she appeared?  Negan was used to women being mad at him, scared of him.  In fact, he tended to thrive on the anger and resentment since it was the default emotions for most lately.  Hell, even disappointment wasn’t unfamiliar territory for Negan.  But Lucy, as always, was an enigma.  A bird whose feathers were not easily ruffled.  _A fucking beautiful bird._  She rolled her eyes at his teasing and flirtations, but didn’t take it personally.  His brutality left a bad taste in her mouth, but she seemed to accept it with little judgement.  What the hell?

The steady, even breaths of Lucy’s deep sleep, was not something he could easily tear himself away from.  _No rest for the wicked._   Negan gently scooped her up, blanket and all, and transported her to the bed.  She grumbled and rolled over but made no further protest.  Negan switched off the TV and grabbed Lucille on his way out, making sure the lock was engaged on the doorknob.

This was their routine for the next few days.  Kevin would bring breakfast and check on Lucy in the mornings while Negan was in meetings ( _the goddamn Accountant and his “exciting” sums and figures_ ), inspecting various Sanctuary goings-on, and his personal recent favorite: scaring the shit out of Eugene.  He’d pop by unexpectedly, get in his personal space and ask probing questions about Eugene’s work with little care for the answers.

Sometimes Lucy had a visitor or two, some women she’d met.  It was probably good she had some lady friends.  Negan doubted the company of himself, Eugene, and fucking Kevin was very healthy long-term.  Nevertheless, Kevin reported to Negan their comings and goings, and occasionally popped his head in with some excuse.  But, despite his attempts at eavesdropping, he had little of interest to share with Negan.  The women were usually playing cards at the little table in the kitchenette and laughing like hyenas.  Negan occasionally felt a pang of guilt having Kevin spy on her like that, but he didn’t particularly know those women.  One of them could be a plant from the Order, or have some choice words to say about Negan.

Once dinner came, Negan would send for two plates from the kitchen and hand-deliver them to a still-loopy Lucy.  They’d chat and watch the first ten minutes of a movie before she’d pass out again, and he’d drop her back in bed.  It was weird, like Lucy had said.  Weirdly normal.

The fourth night, after he’d latched the door behind him, he nearly jumped out of his skin when Dwight was standing there.  “Jeeeesus fuckin’ Christ, man.”

“Sorry boss.  Your office?”

They arrived at his office and Negan cleared away some papers from his desk, remnants of an earlier excruciating meeting with The Accountant.  Dwight was twitchier than usual, it was making him uneasy.

“What is it, Dwight?”

“It’s Rick.  He called in an hour or so ago.  He wants to meet.”  Dwight sighed and walked over to the bar, helping himself to a shot of whiskey.  He never drank around Negan, and certainly never helped himself.  He threw back the shot and stared at the glass before pouring two more shots and handing one to Negan.

“Rick says they’ve had two women go missing.  One on patrol, and one scavenging.  They were all in groups, the others reported the women were there one minute and the next, gone.  Same with Hilltop, two missing women.  Still waiting on word from the Kingdom, but we sent out a call.  Rick suspects the cult people.  He’s mad.”

_Shit.  Shit, shit, shitting shit._

Negan hung his head for a minute, counting slowly to ten in his head.  “Alright.  For fuck’s sake, have him meet us halfway, I’m not hauling my ass all the way out there.  The car dealership that we cleared out awhile back should fuckin’ suffice.  Get groups of men, five or so, some of ours and some of their own.  I’ll let fuckin’ Rick chose his own.  I want patrols organized around each settlement.  _No women_ for fuck’s sake, not even our own _._   I know the hard ones will get pissed, but let them throw a fuckin’ fit.  No women.  We don’t know what’s the hell is going on and I don’t want to risk it.”

Negan felt the strength drain out of his body.  Old and creaky.  When would it end?  The death, the back-and-forth between screwed up people vying for power?  So much death, so much of it senseless.  He’d been a part of most of it, hell, he’d instigated some of it.

Negan looked at Dwight and his half scarred face.  _All for what?_  

“We gotta protect our fuckin’ people.  These creepy motherfuckers are sneaky.  Tell the patrols to be on the look-out for encampments or anything else that looks goddamn suspicious.  Now, get the fuck out of here and get a car ready.  Radio the Prick and let him know I’ll meet him today.”

Dwight nodded and left.

Negan turned to his map, locating the pinpoint where Lucy had approximated The Order’s base.  An old army base, they were sure to be loaded to the teeth with guns, ammunition, tactical gear, whatever the fuck they needed.   _Shit._

He leaned he head out of the door.  “DWIGHT!”  Pattering on the concrete floor and Dwight’s head popped back into the office.  “Yeah?”

“Get Daryl.”

“Send him in to you?  To talk to you?”

“Did I fucking stutter?  Yes, send him in.  Snake, too, the miserable bastard.”

“Alright.”

Negan went back into the office and began rummaging through maps.  There was no time to ruminate over the past, he needed to take action soon and end this.  Some maps were topographical, some detailing highways and back roads, and one was made from old satellite images.  They were shooting in the dark, at an unknown enemy.  The best way to fight them was to know them, and the Saviors were at a severe fucking disadvantage.  The Order knew far more about the Saviors then the Saviors knew about the Order.  Time to tip the scales.

Negan slipped on a pair of reading glasses ( _old fucking eyes getting older by the minute)_ and began marking them with lines and scribbles.  The area immediately around the base seemed flat and clear, some sort of field or clearing that would be difficult to sneak in.  There were hills nearby with some sort of nature preserve outstation, possibly useful if it had a clear view of the base.  Forest land surrounded the rest of the base for miles.  Probably full of scouts and traps.

They still had the hostage from the night of the maze, although he had been a tough son-of-a-bitch and had weathered the cold, dark cell awfully well.  Time to ramp it up – no one survived the sickeningly upbeat “Easy Street” on repeat for long.

A knock at the door. “Yeah?” Negan said.

Daryl shuffled in, cuffed and filthy as per usual, held at gunpoint by Snake. Negan took off his glasses and looked at the two.  “Daryl, my boy.”  He tried his best to paste on a sinister smile.  Judging by Daryl’s discomfort, Negan succeeded this time.

Daryl glanced at Negan through greasy hair that hung over his face and said nothing.  Negan had debated a few times whether to shave off that fucking hair, but he had a soft spot for the cantankerous redneck of few words.  “I hear you are fuckin’ good at tracking and being a sneaky motherfucker in general.  I have a need for sneaky motherfuckers right now.”

Daryl didn’t respond, just glared back.

Negan cleared his throat.  “Listen up, buttercup.  We got a fuckin’ problem.  And when I mean ‘we,’ I mean _all of us._   Your people AND my people.”

“The cult,”  Daryl growled and shifted his feet.  “I heard about ‘em.”

Negan smiled.  “Goody fuckin’ gumdrops.  Saves me some fuckin’ time.  These assholes are grabbing women from the  settlements, including your old fuckin’ stomping grounds.”

Daryl’s eyes widened slightly.

Negan continued.  “It’s about time I had eyes on these creepy motherfuckers.  They’ve had eyes on us for awhile now, probably much longer than I care to fuckin’ think about.  Here’s the deal, Daryl.  I need you to watch their base with a few of my men.  Check out their surroundings, get as much information as you can.  Not just the base either, the area surrounding.  I want to know where their scouts are, their traps, and their fuckin’ weak points.”

Daryl blinked a few times, considering.  “Who’d they get?”

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter who.”  Negan sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes.  “I don’t know, reports didn’t fuckin’ say.  They have now attacked us like cowardly fuckers, sneaking around like the goddamn snakes that they are.”  He glanced at Snake.  “No fuckin’ offense.”

Snake shrugged, nonplussed.

Negan continued.  “We don’t know enough about them and I need more information before I can fuckin’ gameplan how I will chop their goddamn balls off.  We are at a severe fuckin’’ disadvantage.”

He held Daryl’s gaze for a moment.  _Offer a carrot._ “You should already want to do this shit to protect your own people, let alone the innocents here.  But, I am fuckin’ fair when I want to be.  You do this, you get good intel and help us in this fuckin’ endeavor, I’ll release you back to your people in one piece.  Alive.  Consider us square.  Can I trust you?”

Daryl’s eyes shifted from Snake to Negan, back and forth a few times before nodding almost imperceptibly.  Negan shifted the maps towards Daryl and pointed to The Order’s base.  Daryl squinted as he scanned the maps, then spread them all out and covered Negan’s desk.  “Hmm.  That nature preserve’s our best bet.  Might have a good view of the valley and the base.  How long of a drive is it?”

Negan traced the roads with his fingers.  “Gotta be a few hours, maybe more.  We have some outposts on the way, but we left them after the Order hit them.  Probably best to leave them alone, the Order was watching them and still may have eyes there.  Might need to do some hard living in the woods.”

Daryl gave the slightest of smiles, the first Negan could ever recall seeing.  “That ain’t hard living.”

Negan laughed.  “Excuse the fuck out of me, forgot who I was talking to.”  He turned to address both Snake and Daryl.  “Leave here when it’s dark, and only fuckin’ move at night.  Take one of the shitbox cars, no headlights, and once you’re 10 miles out or so, pull the car over and start walking.  Avoid the main roads if you can.  I’m sending out Snake with you, he used to be a fuckin’ jewel thief or some shit and can be quiet.  I don’t want a big fuckin’ group out there, but I’m meeting with Rick later and he might want to send some of his own fuckers out there too.  Don’t be surprised if you see ‘em.”

Snake frowned, “I wasn’t a jewel thief, just a burglar.”  He straightened his back, proud.  “The second best burglar in the South, maybe even in the nation.”

Negan raised an eyebrow.  “Really?  You could have said the best and no one here would have fuckin’ known.  The best guy is probably fuckin’ dead anyways.”  Snake deflated.

Negan turned to Daryl and leaned in too close, Dwight made to lean back but thought differently.  “Daryl.  You make one fuckin’ wrong move, my men will fuckin’ kneecap you.  Then I’ll kill that beautiful little baby girl of Rick’s, his cyclops son, and everyone you hold dear if you should fuck me over.  I will bury you alive in their dead corpses to prove how fuckin’ serious I am.  This group is threatening _all_ of us, it requires fuckin’ _cooperation_.  Got it?”

Daryl glared at him, but relented with a grunt and a nod. “Can we have one of these maps?”

Negan felt a tiny pang of annoyance.  Even his most brutal threats were barely phasing Daryl anymore, probably just sounded like white noise at this point.  _You’re losing your touch, old man._  

“Take it.  Alright, get the fuck out of here.  You may have a change of fuckin’ clothes, and you leave after dark in a few hours.  _Not_ through the fuckin’ front gate, there’s a side gate that is patrolled but not well-lit.  Snake, if he tries anything, blow off his knees first.”

Snake grinned and clapped Daryl on the back.  “You got it, boss.”

Negan rolled his eyes after the men were out of his office.  He glanced down at the maps, hoping some miracle solution would jump out and bite him in the ass.  When none did, he sighed and grabbed his jacket.

Maybe Rick would have a bright fucking idea.

/ / / / /

Mr. Typhon straightened his tie and hat, and smoothed down the fabric of his jacket.  He’d have to tell the tailor to fix his collar.  Some flunky who now was without a left hand had washed the collar incorrectly, and now it occasionally curled upwards, much to Mr. Typhon’s annoyance.  It was a sad state in society if collars went ruined, they certainly weren’t savages.  He donned soft cream-colored leather gloves with the exquisite pearl buttons, located his cane with the grinning skull handle and headed out of his office.

 _Tap, tap, tap._ Mr. Typhon reveled in the sound of his leather shoes tapping the tile along with his cane.  A warning of his approach allows the terror and dread to build.

He strode through a pair of double doors, above which the phrase “CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS” was painted in a calligraphic font.  Rooms with observation windows lined the stark white hallway through the double doors.  Two men in lab coats bowed when they saw their master approach, and then stood with their backs against the wall, waiting patiently should he require anything.

In the first observation window, three women in undergarments wore black hoods over their heads, bound to chairs placed a foot apart.  One of them was quietly sobbing.

 _Excellent specimen, although underfed._   Mr. Typhon glanced down at their charts, filled with notes from the examining doctor, typed neatly on a typewriter.  He had no time to decipher scribblings, and preferred the impersonal sameness of the typed letter.  _Two Viable subjects,_ _both experiencing previous pregnancies, the other unknown, but likely Viable._   Excellent.  They had good stock, these settlements, if not a tad malnourished.  They’d replenish his dwindling brood nicely.

He moved to the next window, three more women and three more sets of notes.  This time, only one viable. The other two were labeled Unviable, Subject E with a medical condition that made conception very difficult, Subject F had a hysterectomy at an early age.  _A pity._

Mr. Typhon snapped his fingers and the nearest man dashed forward.  “The two Unviables.  Subject E will work in the gardens, ensure it has enough caloric intake to counter the malnutrition.  Once it is sufficiently fed, then back to normal rations.”  He glanced back at the chart.  “Difficult conception, but not impossible.  We shall endeavor to try, shall we not?  The next fertile window will be in a week or so, let us see how it takes.  After a few cycles, we shall reevaluate.”  The doctor nodded, orders understood.

Mr. Typhon sighed.  “Subject F is useless for our purposes.  Which settlement did it come from?”  He glanced through the notes.  “Ah.  The one they call _Alexandria_. I have a plan for its body.  You may dispose of it, permanently.  Send the body to my lab when you are finished.  Those men attacked one of our trucks, and we shall be sending them another…calling card.”

The doctor nodded, and walked through another set of doors to fetch some additional helping hands.  Mr. Typhon smiled as he watched as two burly men dragged out Subject F, kicking and screaming.  The creature would be silent soon enough.

He turned around and went back through the double doors, humming softly.

_This group will not go down quietly, all brute force and muscle.  They will try to attack us soon enough._

He made a mental list of what he needed to do.  It was time to start the preparations, before this group of rabid dogs got too unruly.  And what do you do with rabid dogs?

Put them down.

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

It was the first morning since her tumble that Lucy woke up and didn’t feel like she was hit by a bus.  She stretched and grunted as her muscles tingled with pins and needles.  Tender, but no more painkillers needed. Not that any more were left anyways, the last pill was taken with little ceremony last night.  She hadn’t seen Eugene in days, and was itching to get back to work.  Idleness had a certain novelty, but the varnish was wearing thin.  Although, she couldn’t complain about her nights, cuddled up on the sofa…

_Pull yourself together,_ she thought, rolling her eyes.  She’d never been one to go to pieces just because a handsome devil gave her attention, and she certainly wouldn’t start now.  The full-length mirror allowed for a full body inspection of healing injuries.  Her bruises were now faded into an ugly purple/green hue, and her ribs still tender, but less so.

Lucy decided it was as good as it was going to get, yanked on some clothes and charged out of her room, nearly colliding into Kevin in the hallway.  “Hey, I’m going down to the workshop today.  Tell _Dad_ I’ll take it easy.”

He rolled his eyes in reply and grinned.  “Got it, okay.  Uhhhhh, he’s in a helluva mood though so can’t say I didn’t warn ya if he comes barreling down to the workshop.  But Doc just said a few days, and it’s been a few days.  I’ll tell him Doc’s orders.  That don’t always help though.  He’s in a mood.  Did I say that already?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow.  “Is he ever not in a mood, though?”

Kevin thought for a moment.  “Dunno.  Sometimes when you’re around he’s almost pleasant.   Shit.  Don’t tell him I said that.  One time we had hamburgers for dinner (ground venison, not beef) and he was pretty chipper all evening.  Kind of put everyone on edge, him being that happy usually means bad news.  He even invited a few of us up to his office for drinks!  The power of burgers, man.”

“Well, what have I missed in my drug-induced haze?”  Lucy leaned against the doorway.

Kevin scratched his beard.  “Mmm.  Whelp, rumor has it the Order has been snatchin’ women from the settlements.  Negan went to go meet the guy that irritates him, the guy from Alexandria.  Dunno what they talked about but some men here left yesterday to go beef up the settlement numbers.  Negan’s still out, they went on a supply run right after.”

Lucy frowned.  “If we send too many men out, we’ll be sitting ducks here.”

“Yep.  That’s the problem, we’re too spread out, not enough men.  It’s hard to get word out timely too, we hear about shit happening hours later.  Shit sucks, man.”  He checked his well-worn watch and started at the time.  “Alright, I gotta jet to the kitchen and get his coffee, then, or else.”  He gave a brief nod and disappeared down the winding corridors.

Lucy shook her head and dashed down to the workshop as quickly as her recovering body would allow, which wasn’t very quick at all.  It seemed like they’d never get relief from the cult.  A dull ache of worry gnawed in her stomach.  It didn’t help that Creepy David was lurking around in the yard, so she found herself using a gaggle of women on their way to the gardens as a cover.  _Trojan Horse method, works every time._

Eugene was hunched over papers in the workshop, a pencil dangling from behind his ear.  As soon as she passed through the doorway, it hit her.  The workshop smelled rank, of men and sweat and dirt- like a locker room after a football game.  Or worse.  Lucy stopped herself from turning straight back through the door and instead dragged a brick around to prop it open and hopefully get some fresh air in.

“Jesus, Eugene, it reeks in here.  Have you even left the workshop since I’ve been gone?”

Eugene’s eyes flicked upwards and when he saw Lucy, he sighed dramatically.  “I do hope you have recovered sufficiently from your involuntary bedrest.  I am in desperate need of your assistance in cataloguing our inventory and deciphering what materials we need to request from the Negan’s men for scavenging.  Well, from whatever men are left.  Our numbers dwindle each day.”

Lucy walked up and poured a cup of coffee from a nearby carafe.  She sipped it slowly and shifted through the stacks of papers by Eugene.  They had a lot of work to do, and the sooner they could finish, the better.  “You want me to take inventory?”

“I suppose it could be simplified to that extent.  It has been difficult to get these calculations correct, I do not know what type of vehicle we will be using, so the weigh distribution may vary wildly.  I believe we have enough of the basic building materials, but-“

Lucy interrupted him.  “I am most definitely NOT expecting an MRAP like we asked.  I just said that at the time ‘cause I was trying to fill up as much time and distract Negan with cool shit so he wouldn’t clock you with Lucille.”

Eugene chuckled.  “I thought that was rather a tall order, but was certainly in no state to protest.”

Lucy took another sip and made a face.  “Ugh.  This coffee is shit and strong as hell.”  She popped open a water bottle and poured some in to water down her cup.  “Where the hell would we get one anyways?  An MRAP, I mean.  I bet most of them are still overseas, God knows where.  Can’t we just use one of these cars?  That big SUV out in the yard looks pretty sturdy, we can reinforce it.”

Eugene rolled the idea over in his head.  “Perhaps.  In defense of the coffee, I have found I function best in the morning with strong coffee.  A nap in the afternoon then helps restore my thinking capacity as well.  We may have sufficient supplies for a demo type version, of the…what did you call it?  Big Bad Wolf.  Perhaps not with all the bells and whistles as promised.”

Lucy grunted and began picking through some boxes.  “You got a list of what we need?”

“Not entirely, we will need to do that together as I am not in the know of all the particulars for building.”  Eugene sighed and ran his hand through his hair.  “I must admit, Negan is not a very patient man, so the sooner we can get started, the better off I am.  I do not fair well in the damp storage room back there.  The sooner I can get my quarters back, the better.”  He nodded with finality, then turned back to his papers and continued scribbling.

Lucy didn’t have the heart to tell him she suspected the living arrangements were a little more long-term than Eugene expected.  Negan seemed to be enjoying having Lucy close, their odd almost-but-not-quite dates each evening were getting to be something of a habit.

The next few days were spent sorting boxes and tallying supplies, some of which were already incredibly organized and cleaned.  Lucy found that their work went by quickly without the added distraction of Negan barging in every so often.  It would always take Eugene at least another half-hour just to get back on track after Negan’s bemused intimidation sessions.  Although on more than one occasion, she found her mind wandering to that leather jacket and coy smile, hoping the supply run was going well.

Boxes were shoved in the back of the workshop that Eugene had never gotten to, the contents dumped from various scavenging runs and the previous tenants of the factory.  Lucy no longer had her meal delivered every night, so instead she ate at the cafeteria with Jenna and crew, chatting about their days and gossiping about other residents that Lucy had never met.  If they had the energy, they’d meet for some cards, but more often then not everyone crawled back to their beds, exhausted.  It was…normal.  It was a life.

Sometimes as she was sorting and tallying and organizing, she’d think back on those nights alone in the world out there.  Crushing loneliness, muffled over by survival instincts.  Nothing like mild starvation and constant dehydration to distract you from talking to voices in your head. 

Finally, a few days after she had emerged from her quarantine, only a few boxes remained.  Lucy sat on the floor with a generously stuffed cushion (bruises now faded to a sickly yellow), sorting out nails, screws, anchors, ball-bearings and all sorts of random hardware that someone dumped into boxes and marking the figures in a notepad.

At some point, Eugene yawned audibly and rubbed his eyes.

“You ever had a girlfriend, Eugene?”  Lucy asked, dropping some screws into a jar with their similarly-sized brothers and sisters.

Eugene make an odd noise and his eyes grew wide.  Clearly, it not a topic he wanted to pursue.  “Why are you asking?  That is a very odd question given your current activity.”

“This?  It’s sorting out nails and screws.  I’m bored to tears but it needs to be done.  I’m just trying to get to know you.  Any boyfriends?  I won’t judge.”

Eugene’s face was turning a brilliant pinkish hue.  “I-no.  I had a girlfriend once.  Long-distance.  She ended it after awhile, we never got to meet in person.  I am not what you would call a ladies’ man.  In fact, they make me very uncomfortable usually.”

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” _Plink, plink_.  Finishing nails, ten more.

“Yes, but not moreso than most people.  You are much easier to get along with, you just let people be who they are, I suppose.”  He bent over his papers and appeared to concentrate much more on the figures than earlier.

Lucy sighed.  _Plink, plink._ Nuts of varying sizes, catalogued.  “Now you’re supposed to ask me questions, in a conversation.  Ask me something about my life, or something.”

“I do consider myself knowledgeable on how a conversation goes.  A back-and-forth, if you will.  I did not know that is what we were engaging in at the moment, however, with the amount of work still left to be done.”  He twirled a pencil for a minute, before asking, “Have you had boyfriends or, I suppose girlfriends before?”

Lucy broke down a now-empty box and dragged over a new one, full of more crap to sort and tally.  “Well, you get zero points for question creativity.  Yes, I’ve had plenty.  Of boyfriends, I mean.  Each one douchier than the last, pretty much, but there were a few good ones here and there.  Donny Prichard in seventh grade brought me donuts every Friday and let me choose the movie when we went out.  But his sister got knocked up a few months later by her high school boyfriend and his family moved away.”  She looked at an odd-looking piece of hardware and marked it as a question mark in her notebook.  “Do you think the cult… do you think they’re coming after everyone?” _Plink, plink._

Eugene leaned back in his stool balancing on the stool’s back two legs.  He poked through a pencil holder to locate a satisfactory pen, thinking.  “I do think so.  They left warning signs, stalking the other settlements, although no signs at Sanctuary, I’m sure they have people out here.  They do not seem stable.  Those women missing… from the other settlements.  It makes me uneasy.  There is no good reason for taking only the women.”  Lucy looked up at him to agree, just as the chair slid out from under him and both he and the stool crashed to the floor.

Lucy burst into laughter, trying unsuccessfully to ask in between breaths if he was okay, then rolling backwards herself as she lost her balance on the cushion.  This time Eugene joined in, laughing.

“Somethin’ fuckin’ funny going on in here, or are you two just fuckin’ lollygagging?” A gruff voice came from the entryway.  _Negan._

Eugene scrambled to kneel, only to tangle himself up worse in the stool and rocket pencils all over the floor.  Lucy, who had just almost gotten grip on herself, burst into laughter again and clutching her ribs.  “Ah shit, ahhhh shit it hurts!” she cried, trying to roll on her side to sit back up.  “Welcome back,” she said in between giggles.

Negan strolled in casually, poking some of the boxes with Lucille.  “It’s a fuckin’ mess in here.  I thought you were doing calculations and shit still.” Negan grumbled.  “You two nutjobs, come outside.  Now.” He lumbered outside, not waiting for a response.  Eugene helped Lucy up and they followed behind, like guilty children.  It was dark outside, the sun only recently retired, but the yard was illuminated by a few spotlights. 

When they got outside, Lucy gasped.  In the middle of the yard was a gigantic armored car, a camouflaged MRAP she had asked for without any expectation of delivery.  It was heavy and huge, but looked in good condition.  Practically new, even.  She blinked and looked at Negan, mouth trying to form questions that her brain was unable to.

“Well, hot-diggity-dog!  I rendered her fuckin’ _speechless!_ ” Negan leaned into his words, his charming smile providing more light then all the spotlights combined.  Lucy looked back at the MRAP and began circling it, taking it in.  Kevin sat in the driver’s seat, fiddling with buttons and making noises like a kid playing astronaut.  “We’re a go, ten-forty,” he said to Lucy with a wink.  Eugene began inspecting the outside, mouth agape as he ran his fingers over the armor plating.

When she made a full circle, taking in the tank-like car in all its glory, she turned to Negan.  “Where did you- how?  I didn’t honestly think…wow.”  She burst into laughter and threw her arms around him.  He had to move Lucille quickly out of the way so the barbs didn’t cause injury.

“Alright, alright, don’t want people thinking I’m fuckin’ _fond_ of you or anything,” he said dismissively, awkwardly patting her shoulder.  He leaned, whispering into her ear, “Although, I ain’t fuckin’ complaining anytime you want to hold that hot body against mine.”

Kevin jumped out of the driver’s seat and waved Lucy in.  She began crawling around inside, opening things and rummaging around, taking in the space and weight of the thing.  Plans and preparations were buzzing in her mind.

“Eugene!”  She hollered from the window.  “Could we put a grenade launcher on this thing?  On the front?”

“Oh, god, please fuckin’ tell me we can,” Negan moaned.  He couldn’t stop smiling either, watching his people fawning over the gift he brought.

“I do not think we should get too ambitious quite yet,” Eugene said.  “We still do not know the full level of its operational status.”

“It uses up gas like a motherfucker, but it’s operational as shit.” Negan said, inspecting his reflecting in the side mirror.

A hatch in the floor burst open, Lucy spilling out with a modicum of grace.  _Ooof._   She couldn’t stop smiling, a kid at Christmas.  “Shit.”

_Did he do this for me?  Or for himself?_ Maybe a bit of both.

She made her way back to Negan, turning around to watch Eugene measure, poke, and prod.  She suddenly grabbed Negan’s arm, a worried look in her eye.  “We gotta get this in the workshop.  What if we are being watched?”

He nodded.  “Alright, let’s make some fuckin’ room in the workshop and get this thing in.  Let’s GO!” 

“Yes, SIR!”  Men scattered like roaches before light, scrambling to open the workshop garage and move out the other car frames that occupied the workshop.

“How did you manage this?”  Lucy asked, watching the bustle of activity.  “I’m surprised you found a functional one.”

“Well, we did some recon and found an evac center.  It was completely fuckin’ overrun by those sad sacks of fuckin’ filth, but there was so much good shit inside, I couldn’t resist.  This is just the topping on a very fuckin’ delicious birthday cake.”  He leaned in to say more, but Kevin approached them, overhearing the conversation.

He jumped in.  “Only a few minor injuries, nothing too bad, you know?  Boss took a hit to the hand. Shit.  Sorry.” Lucy glanced down and noticed a bandage around Negan’s left hand.  “Not a bite, don’t worry.  Took a day and more to clear out, right boss?  Then the next day to gather supplies and everything.  We left some guys there too as an outpost.  Shit.  Was that supposed to be a secret?  Shit.  Well, there’s other cars there too, military jeep type stuff but it was pain enough to drive this thing in the dark.  Mechanics will need to go out there, take a look-”

Negan held up his good hand and gave Kevin a dangerous look.  “Aren’t you supposed to be fuckin’ helping to move shit?”  Kevin scampered away as Negan followed him with a glare and a growl.  “Fuckin’ walnut that guy is.”

Lucy grabbed his hand and began peeking under the bandage.  “Did the big scary lion hurt his paw?”  she teased, “Lemme see.  Oh, it’s just some scrapes.  I think you’ll survive.”

He jerked his hand away.  “At least I didn’t go ass-first down a ravine.”  Lucy just laughed.  He nudged her gently.  “That thing was a fuckin’ pain in the ass to get, so don’t fuck anything up with it.  Even without decking it out with cool shit, it’s fuckin’ useful.”

The garage was clear now, ready to receive it’s new tenant.  With Eugene at the helm, Kevin was trying to help direct the MRAP into a large open space.  The MRAP barely cleared the garage entrance and they all cheered when the door closed successfully.  Men began to take out cigarettes and flasks, exchanging them around and chatting.

Negan gently elbowed Lucy as they watched the scene.  “Are you happy?”

“What?”

“Did this- is this what you fuckin’ needed, I mean?”  He mumbled as he kicked some gravel.

_Oh my god, is he…is he embarrassed?_

Lucy leaned up and gave him a tender kiss on the cheek, his stubble tickling her lips. “Ecstatic.”  A smile played at his lips as they gazed at the glowing lights of the workshop.

 

/ / / / /

It had not been easy to get that damn vehicle, but just seeing the look on Lucy’s face made it worth it.  Negan had ordered his men to keep an eye out as soon as she made the request, and it hadn’t taken very long before someone piped up and said they suspected an evacuation center a few hours away may have one.  A fucking miracle.  Negan had kept it under wraps, mainly under the guise of locating more ammunition and firearms.

The evac center was lousy with biters, a mix of military, police, and civilians.  Even some vague attempts that others may have tried to clear it out, and instead joined the dead.  There must have been at least a hundred or so milling around, trapped behind temporary fencing and car barriers, so Negan spread his men out to take down any walkers without wasting bullets.  Incentives matter, so whoever got the largest body count was promised a case of liquor and two days off work.

It had been quick, bloody, but effective.  Negan had technically won, reveling in the kills and blowing off steam.  But it would have been a dick move to crown himself, so Skinny Joey won the grand prize.  He relented in the end that everyone who participated would have a night off when they got back.  This was where Negan’s leadership shined.  Getting shit done.  Getting messy shit done.

Kevin had softened the impact, when recounting to Lucy.  They’d actually had someone get bit, a young man probably too inexperienced for a run like that, but Negan was low on available men.  The young man had dispatched himself before anyone else had to make that choice, but had taken out a respectable handful of walkers first.  Negan felt sorry for the little twerp, couldn’t recall his name, but they brought his body back out of respect.

The MRAP had been just a blip in the bounty they’d found.  Walkers had their firepower looted, as well as crates and cases of supplies ripe for the taking.  Negan’s hand had gotten injured during the hauling of the various crates they’d found, but he hardly noticed it until someone pointed out his torn glove.  They’d also taken a few other vehicles in decent condition.  It was a good haul.  No- it had been a _great_ haul, and much needed.  The Order was a constant thundercloud in Negan’s mind, and they had waited until dusk to caravan back. 

Negan had sat Kevin down and made very colorful threats to downplay the mission’s cost.  _Kevin_ was practically his right-hand man now, with his usual inner circle all out on important missions.  Fucking Kevin.

_You’re getting soft_ , he thought.

After Lucy had gave him that very sweet kiss, he had to leave before he took her to the little storage room and made her scream his name.  Instead, he had given Lucy one of his signature smiles and headed inside Sanctuary with his men, leaving Eugene and Lucy to play around with the MRAP.

Negan had jittery energy, and little desire to see his wives’ sulking faces, so he called a poker game in his office.  He knew Kevin and David, but the few others were just vague familiar faces, eager to impress and scared to disappoint.  In his head, Negan named the unknowns Buttface, Scragglebeard, and Firecrotch.  It helped pass the time.

He was doing well in the game, and it was pissing him off.  Obvious calls were being made in his favor, and he only liked to truly win, not because of a bunch of pussies too chickenshit to step it up.

_Buncha fuckin’ suck-ups._

Scragglebeard was dealing when Dwight appeared at the door. Negan raised his eyebrows in anticipation, cards still in hand.

“Negan, we gotta talk.” He eyed the new faces, and hastily added, “We gotta talk, sir.”

Negan nodded and folded his cards down.  “Alright boys, that’s my fuckin’ cue.  Dwight, my office.”  He grabbed Lucille and slung her over his shoulder, whistling.  He checked the clock on his way out, it was just past 11 at night.

“Not your office,” Dwight said.  “You gotta come see something.  I went to go check on Snake and Daryl.  All is well, they’re getting good shit.  They’re still out there, I came back to fill you in.  Something happened on my way up.”

He led Negan downstairs where a handful of Saviors were gathered by the fence.  They whispered and pointed.  It didn’t look good.  Something churned in Negan’s stomach, he tasted acid in his throat.  Someone noticed his approach and kneeled, the others quickly following suit.  “Scram,” Negan said.  They obeyed.

Across the road from Sanctuary was a body, naked, laying in the road.  It was illuminated only by the flashlights pointed by the patrols.  Negan squinted- it was a woman.  He gestured for the gates to open and several of his men poured out, guns drawn and scanning the area.  Negan approached the body cautiously, then froze.

The body lay several yards from Sanctuary’s gates, in the middle of a hastily drawn Fibonacci spiral on the road.  She was sprawled, probably dumped quickly, her arms and legs splayed at unnatural angles.  She displayed clear signs of an autopsy, like a body in a morgue.  Her chest cavity yawned open like a grotesque maw, devoid of innards.  Shiny and red, with hints of white from her ribcage.  Negan spotted a tattoo on her clavicle, scrolled writing that was indecipherable.

Someone muttered a prayer under their breath.

Negan took a step back.  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, get rid of her.  Actually, no- bring her to the doc, have him take a look and see if he can find anything.  _Shit_.”

Dwight looked down at the body, repulsed.  Negan heard someone retching.  A short but scrappy Savior approached, his face incredulous.  He eyed Negan and quickly kneeled, head bowed.

“You know something?”  Negan asked.

“Uh…yes, sir.  I think that’s a chick from The Kingdom.  Real pretty, helped at the supply drop-off sometimes.  Same tattoo.”  The man bent down to get a closer look.  “I’m almost positive it’s her.”

_The missing women.  What the fuck was happening to them?_ Negan didn’t like this one bit.

He turned to Dwight.  “My office, now.  I want to hear every fuckin’ thing they found out there.”

Dwight nodded.  As they headed back inside the factory, Negan turned around briefly, surveying the area around his home.  Were they watching right now?  Laughing at their fucking sick tricks?

Negan’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon for any signs, but only darkness prevailed outside Sanctuary.

_I’ll find you, motherfuckers.   You’ll regret the day you fucked with me._

 

/ / / / /

**AN: Thank you all for the reviews/comments, follows, and favorites! How will Negan and crew deal with the crazy cultists? Hopefully in a super badass way :)**

**Take care lovelies, and stay tuned! xoxoxo**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The news of the dead woman spread through Sanctuary like wildfire.  It was still late at night, and most of the resident should be sleeping.  Yet people were drawn out to yard like moths to a light, sleepy-eyed and curious.  They took one look at Negan and kneeled from a distance.  They knew enough to stay back, whispering in clusters about the body covered in a sheet.  Two Saviors finally got the body onto a stretcher, but fumbled when loading the body.  The sheet pulled off partially, revealing the gruesome body.  A woman screamed.

“Get the fuck back inside, all of you!” Negan yelled.  The crowds scattered.  A vein was pulsing in his neck, warning him of a bubbling temper.  Most of his people had already seen enough horrors the last a lifetime.  He only wanted to protect them, and now the wolves were at their gates.

“Fuckin’ sheep,” he muttered under his breath. 

He finally ordered his men to send the stragglers back to their quarters, fearful that the Order was watching.  Fearful their numbers were being accounted for, their defenses carefully scrutinized.  It was a violation.  He felt vulnerable, an exposed nerve.  Raw. 

Gossip would be ripe tomorrow.  He’d have to think of something to calm the herd,  the sheep that caught a whiff of the wolves nearby.  Panic would be devastating.  He’d been trying to keep the Order news to a dull roar.  They’d all heard the stories, but it had been an abstract concept, stories from a friend of a friend or whispered from a Savior on patrol.  Now it was shoved in their face, raw and bloody.

Back in his office, Dwight filled Negan in on the surveillance of the Order’s base.  Daryl and Snake had been left behind, with strict instructions to only use the radio for an emergency and a list of code phrases created.  Who knew if there were listeners on the radio channels?  The line between caution and paranoia was growing thinner every day.

Dwight swirled the whiskey that Negan handed him, watching the amber liquid through the crystal glass as if it might reveal some useful secrets.  “We found their base.  An old army base like the girl said, sir.”

“Good.”  Negan leaned over his desk, squinting at the maps scattered.  He was starting to know them all by heart. Every curve in the road, every boundary, every piece-of-shit town in a fifty-mile radius.

“Defenses?”  He asked, shuffling around for his reading glasses.  He located them triumphantly under some graphs the Accountant had left earlier.  He slid them on and scowled at Dwight.  “Don’t fuckin’ say a word about these to the others or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

Dwight nodded.  He could give a shit about Negan’s glasses, but knew to placate his leader.  “Yes, sir.”  He cleared his throat.  “Uh, the base.  They keep the defenses pretty tight, but they mainly rely on constant patrols. Not only on their walls but in the surrounding area.  Daryl and Snake had to move camp a few times just to make sure they weren’t spotted, but we got some different angles on their operation.  They keep things close to the vest, hard to say what’s going on in there.”

Negan nodded.  “Not fuckin’ surprising.”

“Looks like the base itself took a beating.  They’ve had to repair the fences, but not very well.  Sagging in a few areas, but they just stack shit against it and call it good.  They rely a lot on the open fields around them.  They send out someone to take out any stray walkers before they get too close.  Don’t think they have a lot of people with building or carpentry experience based on how they fix things.  They’ve started making barriers with old cars and shit, that just started while we were there.”

“So they think their fuckin’ smart, and as a result they are fuckin’ blind.  Excellent.”  Negan smiled.  He could work with this.  They were arrogant, thinking their smarts made them immune, made them untouchable.  But they failed where Negan thrived: people were assets.  Resources.  Knowledge wasn’t everything, experience also made a big fucking impact.  You needed people with specialties to excel in this world.  People that knew how to grow crops, repair buildings, fix plumbing, heal people.

Sure, Negan would kill to make a point.  He usually aimed to kill the less useful ones, and at a minimum.

He cocked an eyebrow at Dwight and smiled.  “So, these fuckers have shitty defenses.  They’re killing women, who are valuable as fuck in times like this.  Not just for the obvious purposes of the _further fuckin’ procreation of our species_ , but they are fuckin’ people too.  You know, blah blah blah, feminist bullshit.  You know me Dwight,” Negan smirked.  “I fuckin’ _love_ women.”

Dwight grew red, spreading from his neck to his unscarred side of his face.  He said nothing.

Negan looked at him a second longer, and looked satisfied.  “Disposing of people, fuckin’ regardless of what’s between their legs carelessly is…  a weakness.  Continue, Dwighty-boy.”

“There’s several buildings.  Looks like some barracks, a mess hall or kitchen, and a big warehouse.  Warehouse is the most heavily guarded, it seems like the most shit goes down in there.  Most of the cultists don’t go near there, just guards and a select few.  Daryl thinks that’s probably where the leader hides out.”

Dwight set his glass down and reached into his jacket, extracting a crumpled paper smeared with dirt.  Negan unfolded it to find a crude map of the base with barely legible scribbles labeling the buildings and their suspected purposes.  His eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.

“Continue,” he ordered Dwight.

“We’ll need to make a better one, that was the best we could do.”  Dwight took a sip, and sighed.  “They all gathered outside one night to cremate a body…” He trailed off and took a deep breath.  “A woman, we think.  Hard to say at first, but when I saw the body out front I knew it was likely the same.  She looked like the one out front, like she’d been cut open for an autopsy or somethin’.  But this one was stitched back up.  Binoculars could only tell us so much until they covered her up with a sheet before burning the body.  They did some ceremony shit, nothing exciting.  Chanting, lighting candles.  The leader was there we think, made a speech, but we couldn’t hear shit.  The leader always had a few guards around him.  He was dressed really old school, with a fancy suit and hat.  And a cane.”

Negan snorted and turned around to the large map behind his desk.  He marked the base’s location with a red pin.  “Of fuckin’ course he did.  How many of them, best estimate?”

“Hard to say.  The crowd outside during the cremation was decent. I’d say just shy of our numbers, not including the outposts, give or take.  But there may be more inside that didn’t come outside.”

“You mean ‘our numbers’ at Sanctuary?  Or ‘our numbers’ including the settlements?”

Dwight blinked a few times.  “Oh.  I see what you mean.  Sanctuary, I guess.  Including the settlements we outnumber at least the ones we were able to see, even if there were ten or twenty still inside.”

Negan nodded.  That was good.  Numbers can make all the difference.  Battles can be won on numbers alone.  _But winning the war takes fucking strategy._

Negan located a pen and paper, and began scribbling down a few notes.  “How’d they look?  Besides fuckin’ creepy.  Healthy?  Well-fed?”

Dwight thought for a minute.  “Hard to say, but the patrols we spotted seemed fine, if a bit underfed.  There’s gardens and looks like they got a handful of livestock in the base.  The patrols got this creepy look in their eye though.  It’s definitely some sort of cult.”

“Livestock.  We could use livestock.”  Negan scribbled some more.  _Save the livestock if possible._   “What about the base?  Weak points, blind spots, that kind of shit.  You said the fences were shitty.”

Dwight leaned over and pointed at the crude map of the base.  “There’s fencing surrounding the whole thing, but southeast corner here has some buildings that look abandoned, and partially destroyed.  Debris and shit against the fence and scattered around.  The cultists seem to avoid that area, probably a not safe to walk around.  They wear sandals if not on patrol, kinda like monks or something, I guess.  Patrols are posted there, although not very many.  Daryl supposed that they are confident that the rubble is a barrier, and I’m inclined to agree.”

He pointed at areas on the map.  “We found a few vantage points that may be useful for support fire, but the whole base has clear, flat land around it.  It’s in a valley, too exposed for a daytime attack.”

Negan frowned.  The more information they knew the better, but there was still so much more he needed.  Too many unknowns, too much potential for shit to go haywire.  He needed time.  Time they didn’t appear to have.

“How often do they send out people?  And how many?”

Dwight flipped through a little notepad tucked in the other pocket of his jacket, full of the daily comings-and-goings of the base.  “Uhhhh, let’s see.  Few times a week.  One or two on average, occasionally a group.  They go out more often than us, but in smaller groups and more frequently.  They don’t stray too far, either.  They usually come back after a day or two.”

_Perfect._

“What about routes, when they leave?”

“There’s only one road, really, and it dead-ends at the base.  They usually only take that road out for scavenging trips.  A car drives them out somewhere and drops them off, then comes back shortly after.  They don’t seem to have many cars, just a few trucks and SUVs and they don’t use them often.  That night of the maze seemed to be the majority of their fleet, and we totaled one of them.”

Negan smiled and clapped his hand onto Dwight’s shoulder.  Dwight grimaced and gave a tight smile in return.  “Dwighty-boy. I’ve got a fuckin’ _plan_ brewing _._   But first, I got a sneaky fuckin’ suspicion we are being watched here.  I want patrols out there, looking for signs that anyone is in the fuckin’ area.  Capture them if you can, but kill ‘em if needed.”

Dwight nodded, but concern clouded his face. Negan waved his hand dismissively.  “I know we’re fuckin’ low on men.  Pull out men from the further outposts anyways, have them lock up and barricade as best they can.  Pointless anyways, until this shit is taken care of.”  He traced his finger along the map, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.  “Recruit from the settlements.  Tell ‘em for every two able-fuckin’-bodied men we get, they get to keep all their food for one collection trip.  We won’t take a drop.” He looked at Dwight, leaning into his words for emphasis.  “ _Food only._ I don’t want them getting too fuckin’ comfortable.”

Dwight nodded.  “Anything else, boss?”

“Yeah.  Tell everyone to stay off the fuckin’ radios unless absolutely necessary.  I want Daryl and Snake out there for a few more days to scope things out, but then go fuckin’ get them and bring their sorry asses back.  Daryl may piss me the fuck off, but he is a useful bastard and I won’t have him taken by these creepy ass motherfuckers.  It’s fuckin’ late, I’m going to get what little goddamn sleep I can.  Now get the fuck outta here.  I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Sir.”  Dwight nodded and left, latching the door behind him.  The office echoed with silence, a looming feeling of things awry.

 _Fuck._   Negan took Lucille and wandered through the back door of his office into his bedroom.  _I’m getting to fucking old for this shit,_ he thought for the hundredth-or thousandth- time, running his hand through his hair.

 _You and me both, baby_ , Lucille seemed to say as she tilted in her chair precariously, exhausted by the proceedings. _You and me both._

 

/ / / / /

_BANG!_

“I’m up!” Lucy jolted upright, then immediately groaned.  She’d fallen asleep hunched over a table in the workshop after pouring through plans and calculations with Eugene all night.  Her back was stiff and she twisted and turned to stretch the muscles.  She felt popping and grimaced.

“Apologies, I dropped one of these.” Eugene said, arms full of sheet metal.  He gave her a quizzical look.  “You have a paper stick to your head.”

“Uffffnnnghh,” was all she managed to groan as she pulled a sticky note with indecipherable scribbles on it off her forehead.  “Did you get any sleep?” she asked, glancing around for coffee.  “What time is it?  Shit.”

“Yes, I did manage to get some shut-eye shortly after you dozed off this morning.  It is around seven in in the morning, we were able to get a few hours of sleep.”  He dropped the sheet metal in a pile, barely flinching at the sound that made Lucy’s teeth clench.  “I did not have the gall to wake you.  Well, until just now in error.  I did have someone fetch us coffee and breakfast.  The eggs are lukewarm but edible.  Did you hear about the happenings last night?”

“You mean us getting a really awesome tank car?  Yes, I was there.”  Lucy padded over and began picking food off a tin plate.  The eggs were as described: edible.  “God, do they not have any salt or pepper in the kitchen?”  She felt a pang of guilt as soon as the words left her mouth.  A few months ago, she would have killed for some eggs, fresh eggs like these and not the powdered kind.  She stabbed the food with her fork and sighed.  “Well, I’m just being ungrateful, aren’t I?  They’re doing their best, I suppose.”

Eugene dusted his hands off on his pants and walked over to the stool next to Lucy.  “No, events occurred after the MRAP hullabaloo.”  His eyes grew wide in excitement.  “A deceased woman was dumped out by the front gates with the spiral marking.  The Order!  It was gruesome, from what hearsay I was able to gleam off of the kitchen staff this morning.  She was devoid of organs and left naked.  Barbaric, I would say.”

Lucy dropped the fork with a clatter.  _Now they’re dumping dead bodies? At our front door?_ Dread began to grow in her stomach, the eggs tasted like ash in her mouth now.  This group, this cult was danger, through and through.  It seemed like a dream, so long ago, when she had encountered the cultists.  They were unhinged, with dead eyes and crazy ideas.  They were cruel and rough.  She thought back to her dream, an eyeless Negan blaming her for death.  _Is it true?_

Eugene filled her in on the circulating gossip, bouncing excitedly, but she was only half-listening. Thoughts raced through her mind as she contemplated the brewing conflict.  The Order was watching them at the maze, watching the settlements, snatching women... now they were leaving a message right at their front door.  They were being watched, no doubt about it.  Teased, a cat playing with a mouse right before the poor creature’s skull is crushed.  Were their own strengths and weaknesses being tested?  Fences analyzed, gates scrutinized?

She cut Eugene off mid-speculation, something about alien implantation theories.  “Eugene.  They know where we are.  They’ve probably been watching for _weeks._ ”  She set the plate aside and began picking through their papers for blueprints they’d drawn up.

“That thought did occur to me.  They left a message on the route to Alexandria.  What do you suggest?”

“You draw up a list on what else we need for the Big Bad Wolf.  Priorities first - we have to get the battering ram on it at least, even if we can’t get all the other stuff.”  She reached for a thin jacket to protect her from the morning chill.  “I gotta run outside for a few minutes.  I’ll be back.”  She grabbed a notebook and dashed outside before Eugene could protest.

The air was fresh and clean after the storm had rolled through, a fresh start.  Sunlight peeked through the nearby trees as it rose on the horizon.  In the yard, residents were covering up rain barrels and cleaning up debris from the storm.  Lucy paced the yard, looking out past Sanctuary at vantage points, scribbling in the notebook.

_South fence: multiple weak points.  Move storage items away from fence to reduce potential cover.  Rooftop guards needed.  Gates need reinforcement.  Area sweeps needed- patrols._

Something was kicking in, a survival instinct she hadn’t tapped into in awhile.  Not a personal instinct for self-preservation, but a more holistic view.  _Gotta keep everyone alive._   She’d gone through these long ago, back when the children were alive.  Scrutinize everything, analyze how things could go wrong and try to make it right.

_You couldn’t keep them alive, can you really keep these people alive?_

“I’m going to try,” she whispered.

There were a few buildings that could be good hideouts or sniper nests, those were noted.  They needed emergency caches of weapons hidden around the area in case of attack.  Did these people even know what to do in an emergency situation, or would they all run around in chaos, trampling each other in confusion? Bleating lambs being led to the slaughter?

 _CLUNK._   Her boots hit a heavy metal manhole near the entrance to the factory.  “Sewer” was printed in arched words across the front.  Her stomach dropped.

_Shit._

She ran back into the workshop, causing Eugene to spill coffee when the door burst open.

“I apologize if my talk of the deceased woman upset you-“

She held her hand up to silence him.  “It’s fine.  Sorry- I just…it’s an emergency.  Where’s that packet of blueprints I organized?  The ones with the factory layout?”

Eugene frowned and pointed in a vague general direction.  “I do think we are able to start working on the battering ram rig today, I believe I have the calculations correct for the proper force.”

“Uh-huh, sure, sounds great,” she said, tossing boxes frantically until she found the right one.  Inside was a folder, stuffed full of various blueprints of the area.  She quickly flipped through them until she found the one she wanted.

“BINGO!”  She slapped Eugene on the back with the blueprint as she dashed out.  “Come on!”  he followed obediently, huffing and puffing behind her.

“Where are we going in such a hurry?”  Eugene called.  Lucy’s mind was buzzing, she didn’t respond.

In the yard, she grabbed the nearest Savior that looked vaguely familiar, a big ginger bloke with a biker beard.  “I have to see Negan.  Where is his office?”  His face screwed up in defiance, about to say some snide remark. 

“ _NOW!”_  Lucy shouted.  The Savior hemmed and hawed, irked at being shouted at by this boisterous woman.  Finally, Lucy grabbed him by the shirt with surprising force and he quickly sputtered out directions.  She ran inside and dashed up the stairs.  Eugene followed behind, watching helplessly, and began slowly trudging up the stairs.  “I suppose I will just follow the sounds of a ruckus,” he said irritably.  There were a lot of stairs to climb to get to Negan’s office on the top floor.

Lucy dashed up them, taking them two at a time until her legs screamed for relief.  Her body wasn’t used to this much exertion quite yet, and she had to stop a few times to catch her breath.  She could hear Eugene puffing a few flights below her, grumbling every so often.  Finally, she reached the right floor and ran down the hallways, twisting left and right until she found a door plainly marked “Office.”  She knocked desperately, shifting from one foot to the other until she heard a gruff, “Yeah?” Lucy barreled through the door, pink-faced and out of breath.

Negan was at his desk wearing a pair of squared-rimmed glasses, sitting across from a timid, bald man surrounded by ledgers.  Lucy pushed aside some inappropriate thoughts as she took in the sight of Negan looking like rather academic.

She attempted to kneel, but it turned more into a bob as her legs shook from exhaustion.  “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but it’s urgent.”  She gulped and added “Sir” hastily, eyeing the Accountant.  He blinked back at her with mild amusement.

Negan smiled slowly and leaned back in his chair.  “What a fuckin’ _pleasant_ surprise!”  He turned to the Accountant.  “Scram, that’s enough for today.”

“Oh, certainly, sir.  Good day!”  The little bald man squeaked.  He hastily grabbed the ledgers and dashed out, shooting Lucy a curious look.

Once the door latched shut, she rushed forward towards his desk.  “The sewers!” she cried as she shoved blueprints in front of him.

“Hold the fuck on, doll, start from the beginning,” he said as he placed his hand on her arm.  She tried to ignore the tingling in her belly.  “What about the goddamn sewers?”

Lucy took a deep breath.  “I was thinking about the Order.  We all know they are watching us.  I was doing a walkthrough to check our defenses and I realized, _this factory has sewer access._   This blueprint shows the tunnels.  Jesus Christ, Negan, they could sneak in at any time from right below our noses, and we’d never know until it was too late.  There’s access in the yard in two places, and the tunnels go out to an access hub somewhere out maybe a half mile or so.  The blueprint just shows it leads east, but it ends there.  Negan, there’s an access point _in the basement_.”

Negan’s eyes widened slightly, and he leaned back in his chair.  “Shit.”  He stared at Lucy for a moment.  Heat creeped up her neck as she started to feel uncomfortable with his eyes on her for so long.  He then sat forward and began scanning the blueprints in silence.  “Where’d you get these?”

Eugene burst through the door, panting heavily and sweat dripping from his forehead.  He immediately collapsed into a nearby chair.  Negan raised an eyebrow.  “Don’t you fuckin’ knock?”

Eugene tried to gasp out an apology but before he could finish, Negan held his hand up to silence him.  “Steady on there, champ.  That’s probably the most fuckin’ exercise you’d have in awhile.  Take a fuckin’ seat.”  Eugene nodded and went to sit in a chair.

“Not on the fuckin’ chair, you sweaty shit!  Those are good fuckin’ leather chairs.  Sit on the goddamn floor.”  Eugene nodded and collapsed, panting heavily.

Negan glanced back to Lucy.  “Continue, darlin’.”

Lucy obliged.  “I found ‘em in the workshop – I organized a bunch of boxes and these were in there.  Didn’t think much of it at the time.  Negan, we have to go check it out down there, in the sewers.  Scope it out.  Even if we weld the entry points shut, we don’t know what kind of equipment they have, they could just jackhammer through or something.  But if they don’t know that we know… we can use this to our advantage.”

Negan pulled off his glasses and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.  “You think we should lure them here?  Don’t really want to use this place as bait, doll.”

“No, no- nothing like that.  They’ve got eyes on us, maybe even a spy on the inside, who knows?  But, they can’t see what we’re doing down there.  We can use it to move people, equipment if needed and they’d never know.  We need to find the access hub before they do and hide it, protect it.  These blueprints might be filed somewhere else, or the sewer blueprints.  Some county or city building will probably have copies, too.”  She withdrew the notepad from her pocket.  “I also made some recommendations on what is needed to bolster our defense.”

Negan stared at her for a second.  A small smile grew into a large one, and Lucy’s heart seemed to skip a beat.  “Well, look at you.  You just get more and more fuckin’ useful every goddamn day.  It just….tickles my balls when I see this kind of fuckin’…  gumption!”  He seemed to shake some thoughts from his head, and his face shifted from amusement to serious.  “Alright, I’ll get my men on it.  Start a fuckin’ sweep of the area.  I was planning on it anyways, I’ll have you fuckin’ know.”

He stood up and shrugged on his leather jacket, grabbing Lucille from her chair.  “I don’t want you to fuckin’ worry about this shit, now, got it?  I want you to worry about that goddamn vehicle I busted my nuts to get.  You trick that shit out, get it done as soon as fuckin’ possible.  Sooner than that, even.”  Eugene and Lucy nodded, and turned to leave the office.  Eugene limped out, heading towards the elevator this time.  Negan grabbed Lucy’s wrist before she got far, and turned her around.

“You know, I miss our little fuckin’ dinner and movie dates.  I think about them _all_ the fuckin’ time.  Especially them little shorts you were wearing.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, but bit back a smile.  “Is now really a great time for this?  We’re kind of in an emergency situation.  People could die.”

His eyes twinkled in amusement.  “Yeah, you almost killed Eugene hauling his ass up what, nine flights of stairs?”  He didn’t let go of her hand, his grip firm but not too tight.  “Listen, people can and do die every day, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t…blow off some steam?”  He smirked and eyed her up and down, tongue in his cheek suggestively.

Lucy blushed furiously.  “You’ve got plenty of other less busy options for _blowing off steam._ ” 

“That mean you’re interested?  Just too busy?”  He leaned against the wall near her, his scent flooding her senses.

 _Stay strong…_ she told herself.

A small voice interjected in protest.  _But…why?_

Lucy was confused, torn.  “Yes!  I mean-no.  Shut up, I’m saying now is not a good time.”

“Now is never a good time, in these turbulent fuckin’ times we live in.  But, you ever change your mind, I’ll show you a good time if you like, doll.  No-a _great_ time.”  He leaned in, practically growling in her ear.  Everything else seemed to melt away.  They were the only two people here, the only two people in the world.

He seemed to revel in her hesitation, watching her bounce between resistance and acceptance.  “How about dinner tonight?  Your place, or…”  He gestured around his office, eyebrows raised.  “I’ve got a very fuckin’ spacious _bedroom_ back there…”

Lucy sighed and closed her eyes, aiming for annoyance but sounded more disappointed.  “Flattered, sugar, but no.  Eugene and I got to work on our little project.”  She leaned into his ear, fingers trailing the stubble on his chin, imitating the personal space invasion that Negan specialized in.  “ _Bosses orders_ ,” she whispered in his ear seductively.  Negan bit his lip and made an appreciate grunt, but before Lucy could find out what happened next she slipped out of the office.  It took every ounce of self-control.

Once she made it to the stairwell, she closed the door and stood there, leaning against the cold steel.  It was the closest thing she could get to a cold shower at this moment.

_You can’t keep pushing him away forever…_

 

**/ / / / /**

**AN: Thank you for the comments/reviews, favorites and follows! I appreciate each and every one of you. Hope those of you on break are having a great time, and those who aren't I hope you are having a great weekend. I wasn't lying when I said this was a slow burn, so thanks for hanging in there. :)**

**Take care lovelies xoxox**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The clock on the wall trudged onwards, each tick a painful reminder of the urgency of time.  Negan half-wondered if the batteries were on the fritz, because there was no way time was crawling this slowly, yet slipping through his grasp so quickly.  Maps were spread out over his desk, lists and notes scattered around in a chaos that only he understood.  He kept trying to focus on the task at hand, preparing and planning, but his mind kept wandering to Lucy, sweet Lucy.  Her smell, a combination of floral and earthy tones.  The sawdust from the workshop clung to her just as much as the lavender shampoo in her hair.

And yet as much as he thought about her and got all goosey inside, dangers were lurking that couldn’t be ignored.  The goddamn cultist they’d captured had been locked in a cell, only uttering phrases of praise for his Master behind haunted eyes.  He’d crack soon, but would it be too late?  Negan gritted his teeth and began pacing the office, unable to settle his mind.  Lucy, the Order, Lucy, the dead woman, Lucy, that goddamn spiral swirling in his head until he felt dizzy.

Horniness and irritation were fighting a battle, and there would be no winners.

An odd, but not unfamiliar, combination to Negan.  There was always something to be irritated about, and he was just a passionate man with a healthy appetite.  When he’d began collecting wives, it had been a smorgasbord of nighttime excursions, and even the wives at first seemed to enjoy themselves.  And now Lucy, with her sweet flirtations combined with unexpected moments of badassery, always got his juices flowing.  And yet, he still had too much shit going on to focus his efforts on wooing and charming.  Negan _loved_ wooing and charming, goddammit.

He glanced over list that Lucy had made and chuckled.  Except for the sewers, a grave oversight he was kicking himself over, most these items on his “Shit To Do” list.  She’d made some keen observations that he hadn’t considered, like clearing the area around the fences so that any attacking parties couldn’t hide behind cover.  Just another reason why he felt like a goddamn lovesick puppy around her, wagging his tail and hoping to get his belly scratched.  _She gets this, she gets how to get this shit running and keep it running._

Unfortunately, a lack of manpower was delaying most of the “Shit To Do” projects.  Another source of irritation.  He had plans, good ones.  But many of his men had been sent away to the other settlements for protection, and he had to keep an eye out here as well.  They had a lot of work to do and little resources to do them with.  It would be unwise to start pulling people off their usual jobs.  Disruption was hard to bounce back from, get everyone back on pace.

Pace, pace, pace.  His boots were solid and heavy on the cement floor.  He liked the authoritative way they sounded, but right now it was echoing too loudly in his office.  It was too quiet.  Quiet brought distractions.  He thrived on chaos and uncertainty, but his usual focus was hard to capture.

He couldn’t stop thinking Lucy.  When she left his presence, there always seemed to be a void.  The air sucked out of the room a little bit, or a light had gone dim.  The way Lucy bit her lip when she was thinking, the way her body seemed to curve just perfectly, inward and outward in just the right spots.  She’d been scrawny when they picked her up, but she’d filled out since then from good food and hard work. 

 _Fuck._ A visit to see his wives was probably in order.  They’d been severely neglected these past few weeks, hell, these past few months.  Not that they seemed to mind much.  The shiny varnish of having multiple wives had faded, and now an ugly truth was peeking out underneath.  His people were no longer impressed by the power play, it was just part of their leader’s life now.  He could see the looks of pity they shot his wives, with their blank faces and empty eyes.  It was worse when Amber was always there, sniffling and fighting back tears, but the pity still lingered.  It still was a little exciting to use them with new settlements, to see the look of confusion or distain, but the novelty was wearing off.  It was like going to a carnival as a child and seeing bright lights and colors, games, and prizes.  Then going back as an adult, all you see is cheap shit, garish décor, and drunken carnies.

Still, maybe some sex would clear his mind so he could focus back on planning shit.

The reception in the wives quarters was colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra doing push-ups in the snow.  _Ice, ice, baby_.  Two wanna-be wives, a blonde with big tits and a bright-eyed beauty with intricate braids flicked through old magazines on a leather sofa.  As soon as they saw Negan, they kneeled.  They pushed their chests out and pouted their lips, giving coy smiles and bedroom eyes after he released them from kneeling.  Negan could read them like a book.  Most people were easy to read at first, motivations written on their face in permanent ink.  The blonde had cow’s eyes, vacant and sweet, but she’d probably irritate the shit out him if she opened her mouth.  The other girl seemed smart enough, but arrogant.  That kind of smarts was almost as bad as being dumb, not being able to recognize what you don’t fucking know.  She’d be fine for an hour or so, then would say something to piss him the fuck off.

 _Lazy fucking bitches,_ he thought sourly.  They both were pretty, but they weren’t doing anything for him.  He used to like the sight of women trying to sidle up to him, get with the Big Man in Charge.  Now he just saw them as leeches, trying to get out of work for the easy life.  His own fault, he created the beast and now he had to live with it.

“Need some company, sir?”  the blonde said coyly, batting her eyelashes.

“Don’t you have fuckin’ jobs to do?” He snapped at them.  Blondie scoffed and dropped the magazine on the floor.  She flounced out of the room, dragging the other one along.  Their departure didn’t help the mood of the room.  Nope, still ice cold.

Despite Amber’s absence and the in-fighting cooled off, Negan still received dead-eyed looks and plastered smiles.  It may have been fun to mess around with them before, get them riled up and angry, but the joy had faded and now it just made him feel cruel.  He could handle being a charming asshole, but this was a lower level of asshole that he didn’t like.

Tanya was the first to approach him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek.  The smell of liquor hit him before the kiss did.  She swayed a little and steadied herself by clinging to his jacket.

“Hi honey,”  she purred.  “Missed you.”  She was toeing the line into sloppy drunk, tears would soon follow if he wasn’t careful.  If _she_ wasn’t careful, either, come to think of it.  Negan put his hand on her waist to steady her, and shot the other women a look.   _Take care of this._

Sherry watched wordlessly from across the room, and whispered something to Frankie.  Frankie nodded and walked up to Tanya, guiding her gently into one of their rooms and speaking in soothing tones.  Once the door clicked shut, muffled sobs were heard before quickly halting.

 _Can’t say I didn’t see that from a fucking mile away,_ he thought.

Negan sauntered over to Sherry, his first wife- no, his second wife, he remembered with a pang.  The first one to start off all this business.  He’d actually loved her at first, at least he thought he did.  He barely knew her, just saw her looking sad and pretty, and he wanted to give her everything he could to make her smile.  She was hard to read- an enigma to Negan, a code he wanted to crack.  Turns out he just really wanted to fuck her, that pesky lust mistaken for love.  He loved turning women from hating him to loving him, but Sherry always seemed to waver in the middle.

He propped Lucille up next to Sherry and looked around the frigid room.  “Well, dear wife, what a fuckin’ reception this is.  A visit to my _loving_ wives for a little fuckin’ nooner, and you all look like I took a shit in your cereal.”

Sherry tilted her head, looking into Negan’s eyes deeply.  She was searching, but for what, Negan didn’t know.  “You’ve haven’t been around.  Turns out here, absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder.  Just drunker and depressed.”  She ran her fingers over her pearl necklace absentmindedly.  “That new girl going to join us?  She’s pretty.”

Negan laughed.  “Doubt it, she doesn’t find the idea too appealing.  I’ve been fuckin’ working on it, believe me.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you converted a no into a yes.”  The statement was intended to be encouraging, but all Sherry could deliver was regret. 

Negan felt the irritation boil into anger deep in his belly.  He hated when she made him feel like shit, and Sherry was especially good at hitting below the belt- intentionally and unintentionally.  This multiple wife shit was past its prime, too many emotions to juggle.  His dream of a harem of adoring wives around him, feeding his ego and feeding his power, now seemed like a teenaged fantasy.

He leaned in close, anger flashing in his eyes.  Sherry’s eyes softened, but she didn’t move away.  She knew better.  “Sherry, honey.  If you’re _unhappy_ , feel free to fuck off like Amber.  Although Dwight stays- he’s far too useful.  I even promise not to “Markify” him upon your fuckin’ departure.  But if you are this goddamn miserable, I’ll give you the same deal Amber got just so I don’t have to look at your goddamn pissy face anymore.  Remember: once you are out there, _fair game._   You better get far enough away from here that you won’t be a fuckin’ problem.”

The words leaving his mouth surprised him.  This hadn’t exactly been his plan when setting out here.  _But maybe…_

Sherry’s eye narrowed.  “Oh believe me, I would love to put as much distance as possible between myself and this place.  This place is a prison.  It’s poison.”

“You’re getting awful mouthy lately, and not in the _good_ way,” he growled.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I _know._ ”

He smiled, then glanced around the room again casually, as if Sherry hadn’t stung him.  The quarters were bare now except for a Savior guard posted at the door.  Sherry took a sip from a glass of water, watching him carefully.  “Do you mean it?  If I really want to… can I…”  she trailed off.

Negan leaned in closer, tilting her face towards his.  She was so pretty, and so sad.  All her light was gone, not that there was much before, but she had some spark when she had been with Dwight at least.  Negan still thought she was super-hot, but he knew she took no pleasure in screwing him, maybe she never had.  The women he wanted didn’t seem to want him back, and the ones who wanted him he felt nothing for anymore.

_Empty.  You’re a monster._

Perhaps mercy was deserved for a once-dedicated wife.  She used to look at him with batted eyes, a small smile, but it had been fleeting.  She’d always been respectful, for the most part.  Toeing the line, but sometimes she told him shit he didn’t want to hear, but needed to.  Perhaps mercy was best.

His voice was so low, it was almost inaudible.  “If you do, no one better fuckin’ see you.  Tell fuckin’ no one.  You tell Dwight, he’s _dead_.  I’ll iron the other side of his face, then shove that iron straight up his ass.  If you get caught, if _anyone_ fuckin’ sees you, I’ll punish accordingly.  You do it right, no one sees you, I won’t waste resources tracking you down.  You hear me?”

Before she could respond, Frankie came out of one of the wives’ bedrooms.  As the door opened, a soft crying sound floated in the air, muffling once more as soon as the door clicked shut.  She walked up to the two of them with a nervous smile, twirling a bit of loose hair.

“Hey honey.  Everything okay?”

“Yeah,”  Negan said, holding his gaze on Sherry.  He broke suddenly and gave his other wife the most charming smile he could muster.  “C’mon Frankie, let’s go have some fun.”  He led her by the arm to the nearest bedroom.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up his pants with a dark look on his face.  Frankie clutched sheets to her naked body, tracing circles into the satin sheets.

“It’s okay, it happens sometimes,” she said soothingly.  “There’s a lot going on, with Amber leaving, this culty group of creeps.  Stress, you know?”

He twirled around and pointed a finger in her face, a mere inch away from her.  “Don’t fuckin’ tell _anyone_ about this.  Yes, this shit happens, but not to me, goddammit.  Got it?”

Frankie nodded, a small smile on her lips. 

Negan jolted forward, grabbing her chin forcefully and wrenching her face up to meet his.  God, he wanted to slap that smile off her face.  “And what the fuck is so funny?  You better wipe that fuckin’ smirk off your face.”  The smile disappeared and fear filled her eyes.  He felt a tiny bit better and a tiny bit worse.  A wash, really.

“You’re hurting me,” she said, jerking away and rubbing her chin.  “Jesus.  I was just thinking how you really must like that chick.”

“What?”

“That girl, the builder you picked up.  She seems nice, I heard good things from Joanie when I dropped off some stuff for the classroom.”  She rolled her eyes at Negan’s blank look.  “Joanie’s the teacher for the kids.  You’ve met her like a hundred times and still don’t know her name?”  Negan shrugged.

Frankie traced her finger on the sheets some more, making small circles.  “You must like her.  She’s really pretty and you get all extra-uber-charming around her.  Guys almost always have _that_ problem if they’re sleeping with another girl they don’t like.”

“I like you,” Negan protested weakly.

Frankie snorted.  “No, you don’t.  I’m not that smart, but I’m not stupid.  You don’t really _like_ any of us.  We’re attractive and you tolerate us to fulfill a need.  We provide a function for you, power symbols.  Something for you to brag about, dangle over people’s heads.  Also, the sex.”

“I fucked you before just fine, I’m just fuckin’ tired and dealing with too much shit right now.”

Frankie smiled teasingly.  “And you liiiiiiike her,” she said in singsong.  “Maybe even looooove?”

Negan scowled and threw a pillow at her.  She caught it and laughed.  “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll tell everyone you made me cum twice.  No, _three_ times.”  She played with a strand of hair, watching Negan get dressed, still with a scowl.  “You know, you are really good in bed.  Even though we aren’t best friends with you, none of us have ever complained about the sex.  You at least want everyone to have a good time, which I always do, at least.”

“That’s more like it.  You tell anyone any-fuckin’-thing otherwise, I’ll tan your goddamn hide.”

He strode out, barely registering anything else as he left.  Shit, this was the opposite of what he was hoping to happen.  Now he couldn’t get his mind to shut the fuck up.

And Frankie was right.  Oh boy, was she ever right.

_Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck fuck._

/ / / / /

 

They’d been at it all afternoon and Lucy was just exhausted.  Eugene had worked harder than he ever had before in his life, she guessed, his cheeks a bright pink and shirt drenched with sweat.  He could barely catch his breath at this point.  The stuffy air in the workshop certainly didn’t help.

“It’s gotta punch a hole in the wall,”  Lucy panted.  “It’s just not going hard enough.”

Eugene grunted with exertion.  “I must admit, it is not as forceful as I’d like.  It might be prudent to tweak it some more.  Let’s see if we can get that shaft to really come down and cause substantial damage, what do you think?”  More grunting.  More gasping.

Lucy was inclined to agree, but her arms were shaking and needed a break.  “I think so.  It’s really got to be able to take a beating so it can be done over and over and over if needed.  We don’t know what kind of pounding it’s going to need to take.”  She dropped to the floor.  “I’m a puddle.  I don’t think I can go anymore.  We gotta take a break, hon.”

The battering ram had proven more troublesome than the pair had initially thought.  The MRAP was tucked into a corner of the workshop, while in the center, a mock wooden battering ram was in a state of construction.  Instead of a solid end, the tip was covered in a boxing glove, as the demos had proved quite unpredictable and dangerous.  All afternoon had been dedicated to discovering how to let the arm fall without causing damage to the vehicle itself, and they both had some fresh cuts and bruises as proof.  Trophies of their hard work.

It had been helpful to keep busy, Lucy needed the distraction.  The screaming muscles were a welcome pain to focus on.

Eugene flexed the battering ram a few times, testing the weight and heaviness of the drop.  “I have a few more figures I would like to work out, but I do agree.  It is nearly serving time for dinner, anyways.  Perhaps I can get someone to bring us a few plates.”

Lucy shook her head.  “None for me, I’m beat.  I’m going to take a shower, get some shuteye for a few hours.  I’ll be back soon.”  Her stomach growled audibly.  “Well, maybe save me a plate and I’ll eat it cold when I get back.”

Eugene wiped his face with a clean rag and looked on at the battering ram admirably.  “I would like to get this finished as quickly as possible, as Negan expressly wished.  I suspect once we have finished, I may be out of the doghouse, so to speak, and he may return my room back to me.  Not that I wish to displace you in any way.  I am not made for hard living, although I appreciate the lesson I am being taught, I suppose.”  He didn’t look as convinced as he sounded.

“I get it,”  Lucy said with a smile.  “I’ll be just fine once we swap back, I still don’t like living down all those twisty corridors.  I could just go back onto the balcony again.  The storm is over, anyways.  Although, having a TV has been nice…”

Eugene’s eyes got misty and far-away.  “You speak the honest truth, Lucy.  A modern miracle of technological achieve.  I sometimes have to stop myself from weeping, so much has been lost since the collapse.  No more scientific wonders, as far as we know.  I wonder if perhaps we could get a television out here, in the workshop.  Perhaps a VHS player…nothing too lavish.”

He had been the closest thing Lucy had to a friend in quite some time.  He was awkward, sure, and wordy as hell.  But he had a good heart in general, and never made her feel uncomfortable.  The fact that she was an attractive woman barely seemed to register with Eugene, which made for the perfect working relationship.

She stood up, stretching and moaning as her joints popped and cracked.  “I doubt Negan would approve of any distractions in here.  Alright, I’m going to take my old carcass inside.”  Eugene gave her a sad smile, no doubt missing his bedroom, and waved her out of the workshop.

When she trudged back to Eugene’s room, something felt off in the room.  Sitting on the little kitchen table was a large box with a red ribbon.  _What the hell?_ Lucy inspected the package, turning it over in her hands a few times.  Unable to temper her curiosity, she pulled the ribbon and closed her eyes as she listened to the gentle sound of silk against silk as the ribbon unfurled.  When was the last time she’d ever opened a present?  Years, probably.  The silk ribbon was present enough, smooth and soft in between her fingers.  

She lifted the lid, and broke out into a huge smile.  Inside was an envelope and beautiful red dress, thin and soft and gorgeous.  A gorgeous pair of heels peeked out from underneath.  She opened the envelope and read the carefully written note tucked inside.

_“Doll,_

_8:00 tonight.  You don’t need any of this to look gorgeous, but just humor me._

_-N”_

She ran her fingers over the dress.  It had been ages since she’d touched anything this nice, and suddenly her hands felt rough, too busted and bruised for something this delicate.  Sliding into a dress was certainly the last thing she thought she’d be doing, but she got a rush of excitement.  Butterflies danced in her stomach as she imagined Negan’s face when she showed up in this little number.  The bedside clock read 5:45 - there was several hours worth of prepping needed to cram into a much shorter timeframe.  She needed reinforcements.

After a quick shower and a _very_ thorough shave, Lucy was sitting back in Eugene’s room while Jenna curled her hair and Joanie shuffled a deck of cards idly.  She had no intention of sleeping with Negan tonight, but it was best to be prepared.  Just in case.   _Would this be our first date, or does the cabin and our movie nights count as quasi-dates,_ she wondered.

“You think he’s gonna ask you to be a wife?” Jenna asked, somewhat strained as she clenched bobby pins between her lips.

Lucy laughed, shaking her head.  Jenna tutted as hair clips went flying.  “Even if he does, the answer’s no. I don’t care how charming he is, I’m not being wife number five.”

“Well, four now,” Joanie said, sipping from her wine glass.  “The blonde one ain’t a wife, anymore.”

“Are any of them really wives?  I don’t remember any weddings,”  Jenna said out of the side of her mouth.  They all coughed as the hairspray filled the air.  “Jesus, this shit’s the good stuff from the 80’s, probably.  Back when we didn’t give a shit about the ozone.  Your curls will hold for the next week or so.”

Joanie laughed.  “Ah shit, I miss the 80’s.”

Jenna shot her a look.  “You were just a kid in the 80’s, Joanie, you don’t remember shit.  You miss what we all remember as the 80’s: _Wham!_ , bad fashion and Jane-fucking-Fonda workout videos.”

“Oh god, the leg warmers,” Joanie chuckled.  “Anyways, they probably have some official goddamn ceremony where they are handed a little black dress and heels, crotchless panties, then go spread their legs as a reception,”  Joanie said, the cigarette in her mouth dangling carelessly from the corner.  She glanced at Lucy, and shrugged apologetically.  “Shit.  Sorry, I know you like him.  Chalk it up to me being bitter and jealous, ignore me,” she said, taking a drag and blowing smoke into smoke rings. 

Lucy turned to Joanie to reply before Jenna positioned her head back forward to curl more hair.  “I don’t- okay.  I do like him, I guess, but it’s complicated.  He’s not the same with me… things are different.  We flirt and stuff but it never really escalates.  There’s too much stuff going on right now, and anyways, I’m not ready for it to.  I just barely rejoined civilization.”  She stared at herself in the mirror, dread slowly eating away at her excitement.  “It’s scary.  I’m scared,” she said in a small voice.  Jenna gave her shoulder a squeeze and kissed the top of her head affectionately.

“Then why are you squeezing your ass in that tiny little dress?” Jenna said with a smile.  When she caught Lucy’s eye in the mirror, she raised her hands up in mock-defense.  “Hey, no judgements here.  If I got the option to not have to toil in the fucking laundry rooms or garden or where ever the hell- I’d be bent over, lubing myself up before you could blink an eye.”  The women all began to laugh.  “No shame.  He’s pretty hot anyways, in a ‘I might bash your brains in’ type of way.  The vultures-disguised-as-women don’t circle around him just because he’s in power, they legit want to fuck him, too.”

Lucy blushed furiously.  The heat of the curling iron, and her own anxious excitement was getting overwhelming.  “It’s just a date, and I’m going to keep it that way.  I already turned him down earlier, but I’m taking this more as a non-option.  Sex complicates things, and this is complicated enough already.”

Joanie rolled her eyes and flicked ash into an empty can.  “The only options Negan knows are non-options.  Jenna may be easy to get down on her knees with bribes, but I don’t like the guy.  I respect him as our leader, but just- be careful, hun.  He’s ruined a lot of lives around here without batting an eye.”

Jenna set down the curling iron and began running her hand through Lucy’s curls to loosen them before spraying them once more.  “Yeah, but he’s certainly mellowed out a little, right?  Besides the whole Mark fiasco – I mean really, Joanie, _Amber tried to fucking kill him_ , what did everyone expect?  He kind of leaves everyone alone, now.  As long as no one causes a ruckus, it’s been fairly smooth sailing.  Except for the shit going down now, it’s been safe with all of us together.  He hasn’t ironed anyone’s face in awhile, anyways.”

“Is that really because he’s mellowed or because we’ve all cowed to his rule?”  Joanie said, setting up a solitaire game with the cards.  Her cigarette was bending slightly in the middle from clenching.  She narrowed her eyes at Jenna.  “Causation don’t equal correlation.  A softened dictator is still a dictator.”

Lucy swallowed hard.  Jenna touching her hair was soothing, but the conversation was having the opposite effect.  “This isn’t helping my nerves, you guys.  I’m not stupid, I know what he’s capable of.  I’ve… heard what he’s done.  I’ve seen it, too.  But he saved my life, more than once, and there’s something there.  He’s good, too.  He just got set on a dark path, one I’ve walked down myself.”

Jenna gave her a little hug from behind.  “Of course, hon.  This shitty world ain’t the way we used to remember it.  Not all the same rules apply.  Joanie’s still trying to cope with that, just like the rest of us.  Just…be careful, okay?”

Lucy save a small smile and nodded.  She stood up and inspected herself in the mirror- she looked better than she could have imagined, and gave a twirl to show off.  “I will.  How do I look?”

“Like a knockout,” Joanie said.  “Better than all the wives combined.”

Jenna agreed.  “You look like an old Hollywood bombshell.  Like a young Elizabeth Taylor or Jane Russell.”

Joanie snorted, but smile when she looked at Lucy.  “More like Hedy Lamarr, with that noggin of hers.”  Jenna gave her a blank look.  “Oh, just Google – wait, fuck.  Doesn’t matter.”

Lucy was slipping on the heels ( _How the hell am I going to walk in these?)_ as Jenna began regaling them with tales from the laundry room, when the door knocked.  They all burst into nervous giggles as Lucy attempted to shush them as she wobbled towards the door.  She tried to not look disappointed at an awkward-looking Dwight.

“I’m supposed to collect you,” he said simply.  He raised an eyebrow at Jenna and Joanie in the background, who were grinning and giving thumb’s up signs. 

Lucy nodded, blushing.  “Alright, hang on.”  She clicked the door shut gently and Jenna pounced on her, lightly spraying her with an aromatic, sultry perfume. 

“Even though it’s just Dwight, you still gotta make him wait a few minutes at least,”  Joanie said, blotting Lucy’s lipstick.  “Men like Negan hate waiting around, and you want him a little flustered and off-guard.”  She appraised Lucy approvingly.  “Alright, now scram.  We’ll clean up here and make ourselves scarce.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, not convinced.

“Alright, you bitch, we were gonna clean up and then drink this wine and watch a movie, sue us.  We sleep in goddamn shared rooms and bunk beds, no TVs.  Negan will be too…distracted to notice or care.  Try to be at least three hours or so and you’ll never know we were here.”  They all giggled and the two friends ushered Lucy back to the door.  Just a few minutes in the heels and she was finding her legs again.  _Like riding a bike,_ she supposed.

Lucy finally met Dwight in the hallway, not sure who was more uncomfortable.  She followed him down the twisting corridors, heels _clack-clack-clacking_ with each step.

Holy hell, she was nervous.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Lucy’s heels echoed down the hallway with each step.  The reverberations seemed to grow louder and louder as Dwight silently escorted her.  She’d think of some small talk, then dismiss it immediately.  The weather, the weekend, it all seemed ridiculous.  Conversation starters pre-collapse were silly, hollow attempts to fill emptiness.  They continued in silence, _clack clack clack._

Lucy hadn’t been on a date in years.  The post-collapse world had shifted the dating world, essentially rendering it null and void.  Who had time to worry about how their hair looked, when being pursued by a herd of walkers?  Most of her focus had been on keep everyone alive, and when she failed at that, just trying to keep herself alive until even that seemed like a futile effort.  Growing up with a single father, her dad had been strict on dating as a teenager, and she’d entered the arena as a later bloomer when she was a senior in high school.  A smattering of boyfriends- some serious, some not – had prepped her generally for the wacky world of relationships, but the whole dating aspect always seemed like some ridiculously awkward job interview.

Her heart was pounding and she could feel her palms getting moist.  _This is just odd, what are you even doing?_ She chastised herself.  But after all, it wasn’t every day that she was invited on a date with the murderous and potentially slightly unhinged leader of some post-collapse gang.  Hopefully the food would be good.

They arrived at the office door.  Low light and muffled sounds spilled out underneath the door.  Judging by the smells wafting through Negan’s door, at least one of her hopes would be true.  Dwight paused for a moment at the door as he debated saying something, then sighed and slouched off.

Lucy knocked.

 “It’s open,” called a voice inside.  Lucy opened the door and was floored.  The twin office doors leading into the bedroom were opened, framing a small dining table elegantly set for two.  The white tablecloth glowed in the glow light, the wine glasses sparkled seductively.  Frank Sinatra crooned in the background while Negan stood over a small kitchenette, a small towel haphazardly flung over his shoulder.  Candles and lanterns twinkled, and some scarves were tossed over lamps to create a bohemian look that somehow didn’t clash with the functional industrial look.

Negan sauntered over as Lucy’s eyes adjusted.  He wore a clean black shirt, but otherwise looked his usual self.  Lucy suddenly felt embarrassed, overdressed and overexposed.  He grasped her hand and gave her a little twirl with an appreciated growl.

“I ought to fuckin’ throw you on a plate ‘cause you look good enough to _eat._ ”  Lucy blushed and ran her hands over the dress.  Her hands still felt too rough for such a lovely dress.  She hid them behind her back.

“Well, I feel ridiculous!  All you had to do was shower and throw on a clean shirt.  This took multiple people and a few _hours._   You know how long it’s been since I wore heels?”

Negan shrugged and gave her a crooked smile.  “Take ‘em off.  I don’t give a fuck.  That dress though…”  He bit his lip in appreciation, then turned back to the kitchenette. 

 “Come on in, doll.  Water’s fine.  You like the dress?  To be honest, I didn’t fuckin’ expect you to wear either, but I’ve got a great goddamn mental picture now!  I can die fuckin’ happy.”

Lucy smiled and tossed her hair.  It felt so heavy now, as if Jenna’s hairspray added ten pounds.  It was hard for her to settle into their usual groove, this oddly formal setting was throwing her off.  “It’s beautiful, thank you.  Very vintage classic.”  She hesitated a moment as he walked back to the stove.  The heels came off with an appreciative sigh.  If he got to just wear jeans and a t-shirt, she wasn’t going to be clacking around like a baby giraffe learning to use its legs.

Negan chuckled.  “You need to fuckin’ relax.  This isn’t a test or anything.  _Enjoy yourself._   And enjoy my de-fuckin’-lightful company.”

“Without those damn heels, it will be much easier.  After years of boots and tennis shoes, my feet are no longer accustomed to those torture devices.”  She blushed suddenly- what if he put in effort selecting those shoes?  “They are gorgeous though.”

“Nice save,” he chucked.

 _Oh god, oh god.  Subject change._ ”Smells good,” she said, padding behind him.

“Lasagna, some veggies, salad, and some rolls.”  He turned around and laughed at the surprise on her face.  “Yes doll, I can fuckin’ _cook_ too.  Total package.  Why don’t you pick out one of those bottles of wine?”

The bottles meant nothing to her really, but she pretended to carefully consider each one before settling on a Merlot.  “So, why a date?  Seems like an awkward time, what with a crazy cult on the loose and shit going on.”

Negan peeked at the small oven, and seemed satisfied at the bubbling cheese.  “Pour me a glass, would you?  I dunno, I wanted to fuckin’ see you in a… _non-work_ setting.  In a super-hot dress.  Sue me?”

Lucy smiled.  “I guess it’s a nice change of pace.  The constant worrying, all the fucked up things happening.  It’s…nice to just forget for a little bit.”

“Exactly my fuckin’ point.”  Negan sautéed the assorted vegetables in some olive oil.  They crackled in the heated oil, and began filling the room with the aroma.  “Fuckin’ A,” he muttered.

Lucy walked over and handed him a glass as he let the pan sit for a minute.  They _tinked_ together in a silent cheers.  She watched him over the rim of her glass, but he caught her eye and smiled back, like he caught her with her hand in the cookie jar.

“You trying to figure me out, doll?”

Lucy looked at him for a minute, her eyes sparkling with amusement.  “I think I got you figured out pretty well.  You know, last time we clinked glasses, it was actually cans at the maze.  I wonder what’s going on there now?  Do you think it’s overrun?”  Not finding a convenient place to sit and chat while he bustled around the kitchenette, she hopped on a very small space of empty countertop and dangled her legs.

Negan glanced at her legs and smiled.  “Those cult motherfuckers were working their way up there, so who knows.  I wanted to send some men out there to check it out, but we’re spread a little fuckin’ thin right now.”

Lucy nodded and took a sip of wine.  The butterflies in her stomach had settled down, and the ease she normally felt around Negan was returning.  Wine was helping, no doubt.  “If you had to make someone else in charge, alive or dead, fictional or real, who would you have replace you?”

Negan looked at her with a curious expression and laughed.  “Weird fuckin’ question, but I guess it’s a date so we gotta have some of those.  Alright, I’ll fuckin’ bite.  Anyone I want, and they don’t have to be real?”  Lucy nodded.  Negan appeared deep in thought while he prepped the salad, then finally answered, “John McClain.  Bruce Willis’ character from Die Hard.”

Lucy nearly choked on her wine from holding in a laugh that bubbled up.  “Let’s see, potty mouth? Check.  Itchy trigger finger?  Check.  Although Bruce Willis can pull off bald, not sure that you can.”

Negan swatted her with a towel.  “You’re the one asking weird ass questions.  Who’d you pick for me instead?”  Lucy shrugged as he shook his head and pulled the lasagna out of the tiny oven.  She nearly moaned from delight- it smelled _fantastic._   Her cheeks tingled, she was sure they were turning pink.  The heat from the oven, the wine, Negan’s presence was warming her up.  A heat, both internal and external.  Perhaps dangerous, perhaps not.

“Let’s dig in, gorgeous.”

They eased into conversation as Negan served dinner, flowing freely as they chatted about harrowing scavenging trips and favorite things they found.  At the first bite of lasagna, Lucy rolled her eyes back in ecstasy.

 “I can die happy now. This is amazing.  Where the hell did you get the ingredients?”

Negan smiled.  “If I told ya, I’d have to fuckin’ kill you.  Nah, actually I’d just keep you locked up here so you didn’t blab my fuckin’ secret.”

They exchanged a look, then began talking again.  Lucy was trying to ignore the gigantic, inviting looking bed tucked away in the darkness.  She’d made a vow, _not tonight,_ that was seeming more and more implausible as the night went on. 

To temper the growing temptation, Lucy began to even chat about the children, a topic they had avoided since their trek through the woods.  It was painful, but Negan was the only one who seemed ready to understand, empathize without simpering pity.

“I felt like I was sending little soldiers off to battle.  I’d get them decked out in protective gear, knives in boots, belts, and everywhere I could possibly stash one in case they were in a bind.  The older ones were around ten, eleven, and they were the only ones I’d send out.  The only ones I trusted with guns, although they were only to use them when absolutely necessary.  They would go out in groups of four or so, a good amount to keep an eye out on each other.  We were always in need of everything, but they were kids, so their judgement wasn’t always the best.  One trip they’d brought back about ten pounds of Red Vines, and they probably had eaten a pound on the way back.  Their lips and teeth were stained bright red.  I had to nurse a lot of tummyaches.”  She sighed as Negan poured more wine into her glass.  “They were good kids.  Tough kids.  We just had shit luck.”

“Luck is sometimes all we got to survive in this fuckin’ world,” Negan said.  He cleared his throat awkwardly and stabbed at a rogue tomato rolling around on his plate.  “Do you still…hear shit?”

Lucy smiled bitterly into her wine, watching the deep redness.  Blood red.  “God, make me sound a little more crazy?  Not as much.  I feel a lot…less burdened.  Isolation is a bitch, being around people and having something to do can do wonders.  I was sleep deprived, not getting enough nutrition, gone through a lot of trauma. I-“ She looked downed and frowned.  “I’m really happy you found me. God knows where I’d have been if The Order had found me, anyways.”

Negan leaned back in his chair, staring deep into Lucy’s eyes.  In the low light, she could still see the outline of his muscles, the flash of his smile.  “Woulda hated to lose such a beautiful resource such as your-fuckin’ self.” 

Lucy raised an eyebrow, “Resource?  Be still, my heart.”

“You know what I fuckin’ mean.  I admit, I don’t always exactly see people as… _people._   Rick over at Alexandria may fuckin’ know the Social Security number of each of his people, or every time they take a shit, but that can be…distracting.  There’s a fuckin’ balance between being too close people and too distant.  I’m trying to fuckin’ build something here, keep people safe.  This world needs men like me to rebuild, for the men that come later and can build something better.  I need people that can help us get there, do useful shit.  Losing people is hard, on everyone.”  He frowned and stabbed a piece of lettuce with relish.

“Do you enjoy killing ever?  People, I mean.  Not walkers.”  Lucy asked.  “No judgements, just asking.”

Negan stared at her, carefully considering the question.  He scratched at his beard thoughtfully.  “Honestly, yeah, sometimes.  If they fucked me over, of course I do.  If they didn’t do shit, and it’s more of a punishment for others, it’s not my fuckin’ favorite thing to do.  Mark had already broken the rules before, and he was a fuckin’ smug prick, so there was some level of enjoyment there.  But this ain’t exactly dinner conversation.”

Lucy snorted and pushed her empty plate forward.  “What is dinner conversation in these times? ‘ _Have you seen any good movies lately?_ ’  More like ‘ _What’s the grossest walker you’ve ever killed?’_ or something.”

Negan opened his mouth to reply but she threw up a hand.  “Actually wait, no.  Don’t answer that.”  She looked at him shyly.  “So, dinner and…?  There’s usually a little more to a date, an entertainment factor.  I got all gussied up.”  _Don’t think about the bed, don’t think about the bed._   “And don’t say what you’re about to- I see that look in your eye.  All you said was a date, and that’s what you are getting.”

Negan smiled slowly, his brilliant smile lit up the dark room.  “Well, since I so _thoroughly_ enjoyed our movie nights, I got ourselves set up for a movie.  Then, I will walk you back to your room like the fuckin’ gentleman I can be.  Just ‘cause I’m almost always thinking about screwing your brains out, doesn’t mean I’m _gonna._   I can respect a lady’s wishes, and I’m _especially interested_ in respecting your wishes.”

 _How is he able to make everything sound sexual, even a sentiment like that?_ Lucy thought.  Not that she was complaining, though.

Negan stood up and stretched.  His pants were awful tight, were they always that tight?  Lucy shook the thought out of her head.  “Now come on, we gotta move that fuckin’ loveseat back here.  Don’t look at me like that- it’s light, just bulky.”

_Oof.  Don’t think about him screwing your brains out._

A few minutes later they were settling down on the loveseat, Lucy carefully positioning herself in the dress.  At first she perched opposite him, a little too self-conscious to be close, but he grabbed her legs and dragged her close, her legs folded over his lap and head tucked in his shoulder.  Lucy didn’t even care what the movie was ( _Pulp Fiction_ ), she just felt so…content.

 _You don’t deserve to be happy,_ that voice said, but she promptly squashed it before she got upset.  It felt like Negan in her head, telling that voice: _Fuck you.  You’re wrong, asshole._

It had been a perfect evening.  Negan seemed to know nearly every line by heart, and would occasionally offer some random tidbit or behind-the-scenes fact.  She wondered if he was a movie nerd before, or just liked particularly violent Tarantino flicks.  After the movie wrapped up, Lucy yawned as she slipped her heels back on, slightly wobbly from the wine.  She stood for a second and shook her head, removing the heels immediately.

As promised, Negan walked her back to her room.  The hallways were eerie and silent except for their footsteps and her occasional too-loud tipsy whisper.

When they got to her door, they looked at each other a moment.  Any lingering awkwardness dissipated when Negan leaned in and gave her a tender kiss, lingering and sweet.  Lucy’s lips tingled, and goosebumps prickled at her arms, her neck, all over.  Unable to hold back any more, she threw her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.  Her tongue prodded his lips, and they pressed together closer.  After a moment, Negan pulled away, painfully and not without regret.  He bit his lip and nodded softly.

“Fuck.  Uhmm…g’night doll,” he said, husky and dark.  “Try not to think about me when you’re laying in bed, lonesome…”

Lucy’s heart was pounding, loud in her ears.  If he would lean in once more, she would have turned into a puddle right then and there.  Instead, he took a step back, but they realized their hands were entwined.  She smiled and swatted his chest with her free hand.  “Ditto.  Go take a cold shower.  Another date soon?”

Negan smiled.  “You got it, gorgeous.”

Lucy smiled and slipped inside, snapping the door gently closed.  _Whew._ Jenna and Joanie had cleaned up the room before they left, although one of them ( _Jenna, probably_ ) had left a doodle of a winking face on a slip of paper on her pillow.  She waited until she heard Negan’s footsteps lumber away from the door, before she jumped and squealed, unable to contain her jittery energy.

She was floating on Cloud Nine as she pulled off her dress, collapsing into bed in just the lacy underwear she hoped Negan had agonized over picking with care.

_What an evening!_

/ / / / /

 _Sleep is for the weak_.

Mr. Typhon only required a few hours each night, a laborious waste of time when he could be accomplishing other things.  He sat in his office behind an ornate mahogany desk with ivory drawer pulls.  It was an overly elaborate piece of furniture in otherwise dull accommodations, but it suited him fine for now.  Someday they would clear out an opera house or theatre, and he would be in the surroundings truly deserving of his mind, of his person.  He worried that he floundered in such a drab area, concrete floors and concrete walls.

For now, being sequestered in an abominably functional military base would have to do.  Reports scattered his desks, filled with reports of failed implantations and dull scouting reports.  The past few days had been less active, he mildly worried that a herd may be nearby, picking off his scouts.  _Impossible._ They would have known by now.  He would send a team out, a large one, to ensure none of the disgusting beasts were nearby.

One report read from a patrol in the area, concerned about well-hidden signs of life in the area.  Mr. Typhon sighed and set it aside.  Unlikely, but he would send someone out later that afternoon.  They occasionally would get wanderers in the area, who would quickly move on or were snatched and incorporated.  They were usually weak and underfed, eager to assimilate into a society or skittish and would bugger off before long.  Sometimes they were disposed of.  The Order only had need for people with a specific…obedient mindset, or the female variety.

Speaking of which, it was time to review the new recruits.  Only a handful of men, it was getting harder and harder to locate more.  It had nothing to do with the Order of course, a perfect society created for a perfect purpose.  It was far more likely that there were less and less cretins out there in the wild, picked off by the undead monsters.  Mr. Typhon made his way to the service elevator, headed to the lower facilities where recruits were housed.  Perhaps once he had squashed this Savior group, their numbers would be more sufficient.  They seemed to have healthy numbers, and Typhon was curious at their success.  Most likely dumb luck, though. 

As the elevators chimed opened cheerfully to the lower levels, the sound of screams and begging echoed down the hall.  Someone wailed for their mother, another wailed for mercy.

_Wonderful.  The reintegration process is already underway._

Soon enough, their numbers would grow.

 

/ / / / /

**AN:  Thanks for reading and for all the kudos!   Starting something new with thanking commenters/reviewers, so thank you TwistedType!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

It had been a rough night, Negan hardly slept a wink.  He was very proud of himself, acting ever-so the gentlemen all night. Fighting the urgent want to rip Lucy’s dress off and throw her down on the bed just hear her scream his name in ecstasy had taken every ounce of Negan’s willpower and more.  She’d been through the ringer, and he knew she was still finding her footing in this new world.  _The fucking ‘take it slow’ phase,_ he thought grumpily.  It was not a phase he excelled at, but he was trying, goddammit.

He stared into his mug of coffee.  Black and bitter.  _Just like your goddamn heart._

After walking back (very uncomfortably) from Lucy’s bedroom and taking a hot shower involving some self-service, he had laid down on his bed.   Then, he found himself in familiar insomnia, wide-eyed and unable to drift off.  First, he got up to clean up the remnants of their date from the apartment, and then once more to pace around the hallways, looking for the chattering sounds from a late-night poker game to distract himself.  No luck.  Everyone was sound asleep except for him.  Empty hallways and silence.

Negan sat in his office area, nursing his coffee and staring at those same goddamn maps as the approaching sun slowly lit up the room with an orangey hue.  The furthest outposts had been abandoned, the Saviors posted there had showed up shortly before the date last night, but he had just gotten word this morning when Kevin came tripping into the office holding coffee and sputtering good news.  The influx of men was welcome, and they would be needed in the coming weeks.

It wasn’t a matter of _if_ Negan was going to wipe out the goddamn cultists, but when and how.  News of more missing women were trickling in, despite the settlement’s best efforts.  Rick wanted a parlay, King Ezekiel was requesting more support, and goddamn Gregory at Hilltop was struggling to spit out a request for aid in between his ass-kissing.  Anyone getting snatched was a bad deal, but women- this was hitting everyone hard.

Negan turned to the blueprints of Sanctuary, now posted up on the map wall.  Colorful thumbtacks littered the paper where he indicated where guards should be, weak spots to work on the next week or so, and areas to set up defensive traps.  Arat had led a team and found the sewer hub about half a mile east, just like Lucy suspected, but still hadn’t been able to locate the basement entrance.  The multiple- floors below the factory had proved to be far more expansive than anyone expected, a labyrinth of sameness.  Hallways and doors, doors and hallways.

 Knocking at the door tore Negan out of the map-brooding session.

“Yeah?”

“Mornin’.  It’s- uh…can I come in?  It’s Kevin.  Got more coffee for you.  Uh, sir.”

“Get the fuck in here.”

The door swung open and Kevin shuffled in, a coffee carafe in one hand and an armful of papers in the other.  “Got some reports for you, too.  Nothing too interesting, though, sir.  Shit- not that I read them-that’s what the radio guys said when I stopped by.  Shit.  Uh, Dwight is downstairs, too.  That cult dude-the one from that one night, remember?  We, uh, captured him?”

Negan sighed.  _Remember, the kid is fucking loyal, do not beat him to death with Lucille._

“Yes, Kev, I fuckin’ remember the guy we captured.  What does Dwight want?  Is the creep talking finally?”

As Kevin took a deep breath for a long one, Negan rubbed his eyes and snatched the coffee carafe.  Fresh coffee was most likely the only thing holding him back from extracting Lucille from her chair.  Kevin babbled about the cultist’s reaction to the interrogation process, Negan rummaged around and located a coffee mug.  The crazy cultist been a tough fucker, most men cracked after a few days of non-stop “Easy Street,” but this guy was already probably nuts, so the usual methods hadn’t worked.  Negan wasn’t a big fan of _prolonged_ torture, it rarely got real results past a certain point anyways, but nothing else had worked with this guy.  He took a long sip of coffee and sighed. 

Kevin was still going.  Negan massaged his temples, about ready to deck the scrawny Savior just to shut him up.

But as per-fucking-usual, Kevin had buried the nugget of good information under a barrage of nothing.  “And get _this_ , boss: he finally came to his senses a few hours ago.  He hasn’t been, you know, just nuts like we thought.  He’s been _brainwashed,_ sir.”

“No shit, Kevin, that’s usually how fuckin’ cults work.  Hell, it could be fuckin’ argued I’ve brainwashed you all with all the goddamn kneeling and shit.”  He took another sip and smiled.  “But that’s just fuckin’ _respect,_ that is.”

“Yeah, right, of course, sir!  But with this guy, it was with drugs or some shit, and some heavy-duty torture.  He thought this was all some damn test of his loyalty, that his leader was behind this.  I guess some of them get pumped full of drugs, experimental shit, and this guy was one of them.  He’s been detoxing, hard, from whatever cocktail they had him on.  He’d been too busy hurting and Doc thinks it’s finally out of his system.”

Negan slammed his coffee down.  “Kevin, why the fuck didn’t you lead with that you piece of shit?  Learn to fuckin’ prioritize your information or I’ll lock you up in the cell next to the kook, you dumb shit!”  He strode over to Kevin, shaking his shoulders out of frustration.  “For fuck’s sake!”

Kevin’s eyes widened, white rolling in his eyes as Negan shook him.  “S-s-sorry, sir,” he managed to stammer.

Negan looked at him a moment and sighed.  He loosened his grip and smoothed down Kevin’s shirt where he’d wrinkled it.

“Just fuckin’ think about shit first.  Lead with the information I’d want to fuckin’ hear, then you can fill in with the other shit if asked.”  He put his hand on Kevin’s shoulder, trying to ignore the flinch that followed.  “You’re-you’re a good kid, you just drive me fuckin’ nuts,” he said awkwardly.  Negan cleared his throat and walked back around to his desk.

Kevin opened his mouth, but thought better and nodded silently.  Before Negan could give further orders, the door burst open.  Dwight strode in, an odd look on his face.  He stood there staring for a moment.

“Don’t you fuckin’ knock?  What the fuck do you want?”  Negan grumbled.  “Kevin already told me about the cultist shit, I’ll handle it after I get some fuckin’ coffee down first, goddammit.  Between the two of you, I outta-“

“Sherry’s gone, sir.”

Negan blinked.  Not wholly unexpected, but they didn’t need to know that.  _Bad fucking timing, Sherry honey_.  “What the fuck you mean, she’s _gone?_ ”

Dwight shifted uncomfortably, eyeing Kevin, who was currently flipping through the stacks of blueprints on Negan’s desk.

Negan whistled sharply, causing Kevin to drop a stack of maps.  “This isn’t your personal fuckin’ library.  Get the fuck out and go be fuckin’ useless somewhere else.”  Kevin obliged, latching the door shut quietly behind him.

Dwight cleared his throat.  “Uh, she must have left last night.  Some of her stuff’s gone, sentimental stuff.  Clothes.  One of the guards thinks she took his gun on her way out while he was…on watch.”

“You mean, while he was fuckin’ sleeping on watch.”

Dwight nodded.

Negan sat down heavily at his desk. _Shit._

He hadn’t meant for her to leave _now_ , with the fucking Order on the prowl.  What if they got her, too?  _Stupid fucking bitch_.  They weren’t exactly best pals right now, but he didn’t want her to go through whatever fucked up shit the Order would put her through.  If he sent men out now after her, they might actually succeed in finding her and defeating the whole goddamn purpose of his officially unofficial blessing for her to get the hell out of Dodge. 

Negan slammed his hands down on the desk, his coffee sloshing slightly over the scattering of papers.  “ _God-fuckin’-dammit_!  I can’t fucking afford the men to go search for her dumbass out there.  The goddamn cult is out there too, with an appetite for females.”  He paced around the room for a minute while Dwight watched on, offering nothing except silence.  Negan grabbed Lucille from her chair and gripped her tight.  His knuckles were white, the muscles in his arms tightened. 

“Fuck!  Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he shouted as he banged her on the desk.   His coffee now formed a puddle, seeping into the surrounding reports and maps.  He stood for a moment, his chest heaving from trying to contain his rage.  _And now you made a fucking mess, for no good reason._  

“Get me a fuckin’ towel.”

“Yes, sir.”  Dwight rummaged in the bar area and located a few clean ones.  He went to hand them to Negan, but then clutched them to his chest.  The room was buzzing with Negan’s anger.  The anger circled around the room, a vulture looking for prey.

 “Clean that up.”

Dwight nodded and began sopping up the mess, setting aside the soaked papers to dry on the windowsill.

Negan watched him through narrowed eyes.  Eventually, he licked his lips and cleared his throat.  “Fuck her, she doesn’t want to be here, she made the choice.  She knew what’s the fuck is going on out there and still bolted instead of fuckin’ waiting for us to handle it.  She’s on her own.”

Dwight continued to mop up the mess on Negan’s desk and said nothing.  Negan looked over at him, eyes blazing.  He pointed Lucille at Dwight, inches from his face.  “Listen carefully to my fuckin’ words.  I need your ass _here._   You go fuckin’ looking for her, I _will_ waste the men and time to hunt the BOTH of you down like the fuckin’ rats you are.  I will burn the fuck out of the other half of your goddamn face, and maybe even Sherry’s while I’m fuckin’ at it.  We clear?”

Dwight nodded.  “Crystal, sir.  What would you like me to do?” 

“Find out of anyone helped her leave.  And go see the Doc, get more information on the kook we picked up, since he’s fuckin’ lucid now.”  Dwight gave another curt nod and left the room, holding the soaked towels at a distance.

Negan sighed and looked at Lucille.  “Will I ever get a fuckin’ break?”

Lucille didn’t seem to think so.

/ / / / /

Lucy could barely concentrate in the stuffy workshop.  A few Saviors who had mechanic experience were looking over the MRAP excitably, arguing over the feasibility of certain modifications.  Wrenches clattered, a drill buzzed somewhere, and general chaos ensued.

It was actually a perfect environment for Lucy to drift off and think about the previous night as she mindlessly welded together some metal pieces to make some armored plates.  The evening had been romantic and sweet, not at all what she had expected based on the sultry red dress Negan had sent over.  Contradictory, hot and cold.  Was it her signals that were confusing, or his?  He always flirted but then seemed to hold back, she got the sense he never really held back anything usually.  Was he one of those people that just liked the beginnings of things, shiny and new?

A grunt of annoyance brought her back to the workshop.  Eugene was soldering some wiring onto a electronic piece and eyeing the mechanics distastefully through his safety goggles.  He didn’t like these intruders in their space, and spent much of the day huffing and tutting away, which only made the mechanics be louder and more intrusive.  He’d finally gotten the battering ram to a testing point, no thanks to Lucy’s date, a fact he’d been also grumbling about all morning.  Eugene had spent the night tinkering and grumbling to himself.  Once Lucy floated in that morning, they’d spent the day testing out his new calculations until satisfied.

Another few days of construction and the Big Bad Wolf would be ready for official testing.  And not a moment too soon – as much as Lucy had enjoyed sleeping in a real bed for once, it felt intrusive to be in Eugene’s room.  She tried to spent as little time as possible in there, and suspected his mood would be more agreeable once he was back in his quarters.  The day she didn’t have to hear him wistfully ask about the movies she had watched, or whether she’d played any of his video games (she hadn’t) certainly couldn’t come any sooner.

Lucy surveyed the activity in the workshop.  Despite the chaos, things were getting done.  Productivity felt good, it felt like progress.

The workshop door clanged open and Jenna popped her head in.  A devilish grin appeared when she met Lucy’s eye.  She beckoned with a crooked finger for her to follow outside.  Lucy rolled her eyes to Eugene, who hadn’t stopped scowling all morning.  “I’ll just be a minute.  I need the fresh air anyways,” she called behind her.

“Certainly.  I will be in here, amongst the noise and debris and intrusions of lesser minds in our happy abode.  Do not mind me,” he grumbled.

Before Lucy could apologize, Jenna dragged her by the arm to a quiet corner outside, hidden from prying eyes in the factory yard as she lit up a cigarette.  “Sooooo.  How was it?”

Lucy smiled dreamily.  “Oh, fine.  Much tamer than you are imagining, I’m sure.  He cooked dinner and we watched a movie.  For all the sex talk, he was very…gentlemanly.”

Jenna took a long drag, eyes narrowed as she watched Lucy.  “I don’t believe you.  Nothing?  What is this, middle school?  No, even in middle school at least you’d be giving a handy under the bleachers or making out in the back of your dad’s Volvo.”  Lucy scoffed and tried to look shocked.

Jenna cocked an eyebrow.  “What is this, Victorian England?  Did you even kiss?  Or did you just flash him your ankle and shake hands at the end of the evening?”

They both burst into laughter.  Lucy filled her in on the date, Jenna growing more and more annoyed at the lack of action. 

“You better run up there and blow him before he gets bored of playing cat-and-mouse.”  She held her hands up in defense of Lucy’s scathing look.  “Hey, just sayin’.  The dude has FOUR wives-“  Jenna’s eyes grew wide as she choked on smoke, hacking and coughing.

“Well, three now.” Lucy corrected, patting Jenna’s back.  She took the cigarette from Jenna’s hand as she sputtered, taking a dainty inhale.  Smoking wasn’t really her thing, but the occasional nicotine surge wasn’t beyond her.  She soon joined Jenna as they hacked together, which turned into another fit of laughter.

“Girl, you didn’t hear?  He’s down to an even two now.  His favorite bailed.”

“What?”

“HIS FAVORITE BAILED!”

“No, I heard you, dummy!  What do you mean, she bailed?”  Lucy’s stomach dropped.  “Shit, the favorite was Sherry, right?  Did Dwight leave with her, too?  Oh, shit.”

Jenna shook her head.  “Nah, I saw him skulking around, looking mopier than usual.  Negan isn’t sending anyone out though, we’re too short-staffed.  They’ve even started recruiting from non-essential jobs, just the men though.  Isn’t that bullshit?  I don’t care if those maniacs are taking women, if they ever try, they’ll regret the day they did.”  Jenna took another drag, carefully this time, and scanned the yard with suspicion. 

Lucy didn’t doubt it.  If any cultist tried to grab her, Jenna would probably castrate them before they even realized it.

Jenna continued.  “I heard they’re watching.  The weirdos.  Patrols shot a guy in the area, thought it was one of them maybe.  Gates are currently being reinforced and there’s a lot more guys on watch.  Things are heating up.  I heard a settlement got hit, too.”

“Which one?”

Jenna shrugged and stubbed her cigarette out.  “Dunno.  Some little piddly one, not one of the big ones.  Maybe had ten people or so, but when the Saviors went to go pick up supplies this morning and had a lackluster greeting.  Dead men and missing women.”  She leaned in, lowering her voice.  “Lucy, they _impaled_ the men.  On spikes.  How fucked up is that?”

Lucy’s hand flew to her face.  “Holy shit!”

Jenna nodded.  “We’re getting ready for something.  Something big.  Orders are to conserve ammo, scavenging is practically _nada._   We gotta hit them before they get someone else.  They’re starting small, and working their way up.”  Her eyes darted around nervously.  “What do you think?  Do they keep the women as slaves or something?”

Lucy shrugged.  “Apparently you know more than I do.  Negan’s mad about The Order, sure.  He hasn’t revealed any big plans to me, though.  I just know we are on the defensive.  He has a plan though, I’m sure.”

Jenna didn’t look as convinced.  “Well, don’t be expecting anymore fancy dates.  I’m sure he’s up there, blowing a gasket.  I expect someone’s gonna die soon.  Someone’s got to pay for the little wife going missing, no way he’s going to just let that shit slide.”  She dropped her cigarette on the asphalt and ground it under her sneaker. 

“Alright, back to the salt mines.  My boss’ll notice I gave him the slip about now.  Take care, sweetie.”  She gave Lucy a quick squeeze, then dashed to the nearest factory door.

Lucy swallowed hard.  Jenna was probably right.

_Someone’s going to pay._

_/ / / / /_

 

**AN:  Thank you to H and Natalie for the reviews last week!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

 

“I’m telling you, I don’t KNOW!”

A man with closely shorn hair was tied to a metal folding chair in front of Negan.  The cultist.  A table separated them.  Deep gouges scarred the top from an drunken brawl, but Negan liked that it looked as if someone had been clawing at it.  It gave the right type of impression needed in an interrogation.

The man’s ribs were visible under the thin shirt, his eyes hollow and bloodshot.  They rolled wildly in his head and his lips were white and cracked from dehydration.  Weeks of being locked in a cell, detoxing from whatever drug cocktail he’d been shot up with had taken its toll.  Dr. Carson had him hooked up to an IV providing some counter to extreme dehydration.  The IV drip rattled gently as the man shook in frustration and fear, the only sound in the concrete room aside from Negan’s tapping foot.  With his gaunt appearance, the man could have easily been tied up outside Sanctuary with the rest of the walkers and no one would know the difference between his living corpse and the dead.

Negan sighed, disappointed.  He leaned back in his chair, feigning a confused look.  “You mean to say, you’ve told us fuckin’ _everything_ you know?  What’s your name again?”

The man swallowed hard, trying to soothe his raw throat.  “Bill.  And yes!  I wasn’t anyone important.  Just a low-level man that did what he was told, went where he was told.”

Negan leaned forward, hands folded before him.  “Bill, I know you’ve been through the fuckin’ ringer.  You look like shit.  You smell like shit.  You feel like shit.  But I’m going to need a little more fuckin’ information.”  Negan stood up, the one light in the room illuminating his head like a crown of fire.

Bill gulped.  This man was as tenacious as Typhon, but he was different.  He offered a carrot and a stick, where Typhon only offered sticks. 

“Typhon is our master… er…our leader.  Master- he gave us these drugs.  He called it ‘The Boost.’  I didn’t want to at first, used to be an addict before and I got myself cleaned up with a job and my own place before the world went to hell.  It kind of gave me the creeps, but I didn’t know what else to do, you know?  We got the impression that it wasn’t optional.”

Bill sighed and shifted in his chair.  “Not everyone had to get it, I doubt they had enough to keep everyone on it anyways.  Felt good, that injection made you feel like a hundred bucks.  Never said what was in it, but probably speed.  Opiates too, maybe.  Who the fuck knows?  Typhon didn’t like questions.  It got us jacked up to do work, and gave us this feeling of loyalty, of oneness.  The comedown’s been a bitch.”  He sputtered into a coughing fit, eventually hacking up something and spitting on the ground nearby.

Negan masked his disgust with a calculated smile.  “Why is he going after my settlements?”

“I-I don’t really know, exactly.”

“Just fuckin’ humor me.  _Please.”_   Negan picked up and twirled Lucille and slammed her straight down on the cement ground.   _CLUNK._

“There were…rumors.”

“Atta boy!  Do fuckin’ share.  There’s always a beautiful goddamn kernel of truth buried in a shitstorm of rumors.”

The man tried to clear his throat, but it was dry as the Sahara.  Tongue like sandpaper.  He’d been screaming off and on for who knows how long, and his voice was hoarse.  He tasted blood.

Negan sat down, tucking Lucille next to him.  He tilted his head at the man and smiled.  “There’s a cool glass of water with your fuckin’ name on it, Bill, if you share these fuckin’ rumors.”

Bill nodded.  “Well, he always talked about repopulation, you know?  A new generation of stronger, better people.  But we, the followers, weren’t allowed to…well, there were no women allowed around the men, really.  Some of them had wives, girlfriends, sisters.  We knew they were there in the base.   Sometimes patrols would grab them from the outside and bring ‘em back, but we wouldn’t really see ‘em except if one died.”

Bill closed his eyes, as if to shut out the memories.  The truth.  “He’d make a big thing out of it, the women would even come out and watch behind a screen type thing so no one else could look at ‘em.  Typhon didn’t want us to see them, said it would distract from our future.  But he promised once the time was right, we all would be ready and the women could come out from hiding.  When one of them would die there’s be a big ceremony from the cremation.  He’d give these big speeches how we were going to save the world, just had to follow him.  He’d talk about the sacrifices the woman made, how much of an honor it was.  Never really understood what he was talking about, but there was talk.  Real creepy, now that I think about it, but it made sense at the time.  He was… charming, scary, intelligent.”

He coughed again, nearly gagging himself in the process.  Once he recovered, he wiped his mouth and straightened his back, looking Negan in the eye.  “But Typhon is like those snakes, you know the ones that hypnotize their prey?  Easy to get caught up in what he was saying, and you don’t feel the fangs sink in.  Don’t feel the venom course through your veins.”

Negan made a quick whistle and a Savior, Fat Joey, appeared at the door.  “Go get a pitcher of water, _clean_ fuckin’ water, and a glass.  Bring it up.”  He turned back to Bill and spread his hands.  “Continue.”

“Thanks.  I dunno, it all made more sense when we was high.  He’s real smart, too smart.  Was some sort of big fancy academic-type before…you know.  I don’t know that kind of shit, I barely passed high school.  Uh, kind of stuck-up, now that I think about it.  Everything was beneath him, a chore.  He was disgusted by everything, everyone.  But, he was smart.  He said stuff and people listened, and somehow what he said made sense at the time, even if it didn’t when you got back to your bunk and thought about it.  I guess he started off with a small following who really did believe every word he said…”  His voice trailed off into a crackle.  “Sorry.  We weren’t allowed to speak any ill, his guards were always watching and listening for anyone toeing the line.”

“Bill.  One more time.  What were the fuckin’ rumors?”

“Ah, yeah.  Shit, I’m tired.  Rumors were that he kept them for himself.  The women, I mean.  One guy I patrolled with said he kept them locked up.  Didn’t rape ‘em or nothing, but…tried to get them pregnant, you know?”

“What, with like a fuckin’ turkey baster?”

Bill blinked.  “What’s a turkey baster?”

Negan shook his head and chuckled.  “Never mind.  Why is he attacking my settlements?  Does he want more women?”

Bill shrugged.  “Probably.  We were having more cremations than usual and there were whispers that the women were dying more than expected.  They couldn’t carry his kids, couldn’t survive child birth or whatever the hell he was putting them through.  He hated seeing other settlements that were doing well.  He said they were going down dark paths.  I think it was threatening, that his way wasn’t the only way to survive.  We never had the manpower to attack, so he would use tactics to intimidate and shit.  It worked on a lot of small groups, but when we tried to go big we got fucked.”  Bill laughed bitterly.  “The guards didn’t tell him though.  He punished people that brought him bad news, so everyone lied.  What a crock of bullshit!  We were starting to get low on food.  Gardens weren’t doing as well.  I guess a bunch of guys jacked up on drugs don’t run things too well.”

Fat Joey appeared with the water, and Bill made a strangled sound of excitement.  Negan watched him carefully and poured a glass of water.  He pushed it gently towards the cultist.  Cool, sweet water.  Bill drank greedily, water spilling down his chin and dribbling on the floor.

“Thanks,” Bill said.

“How many people does he have?”  Negan asked as he took the glass back.

“Dunno how many women… less than twenty I would hazard, closer to ten.  Hell, maybe none- he ramped things up when we saw that crazy maze.  I dunno what he wanted it for, just that he wanted that maze.  I overheard the guards say he had lost another one- a woman or a baby, not sure.  Numbers-wise, maybe fifty, sixty men that I know of?  He didn’t have outposts or nothin’ like you, he liked to keep everyone close by.  We weren’t allowed in the warehouse except the front area for deliveries, there might be more in there.  That’s where the women were kept.”

Negan nodded, scrutinizing the man carefully.  Everything should be taken with a grain of salt, but this man seemed sincere.  After hard living and detoxing, the right incentives would keep the information flowing.

“How was it at the army base?  You said shit was going downhill?”

“Well, it never was easy, that’s for sure, but we did had enough to survive for awhile.  We relied a lot on scavenging, but only his guards were trusted to leave and come back.  That’s another thing – everyone wanted to be one of his guards.  He called them ‘The Force.’  He wasn’t too creative with names, if you can’t tell.  The Order, The Boost, The Force.”

Negan smiled.  “Maybe he just keeps shit to the point.  Tell me more about the base.”

“Mebbe so, mebbe so.  There were a lot of supplies already at the base.  Pretty well stocked with emergency rations, enough MRE’s, you know, those ready-made meals that you just add water to?  But they ain’t good to live off of long-term.  If they don’t plug you up for days, they’ll give you the shits like you wouldn’t believe.  Dehydration was a problem, lots of guys working too hard, not eating or drinking enough.”

Negan poured him another glass.  “What about the men there, Bill?  Soldiers?  Average Joe-type?  Who the fuck was in there?”

Bill drank again, this time slowly nursing the water.  “Mainly regular people, no former military except some doctors.  We didn’t see them much, don’t think they were there for our convenience.  Mast…  uh, Typhon mainly picked up people of a certain nature, I guess.  Desperate, lost, afraid.  Easily convinced.  My ma always said I got caught up by the razzle-dazzle of others, I s’ppose she’s right.  The base was mostly deserted when we got there, some papers found there indicated the people there had gone to the evac centers to help out.  It had a lot of medical shit in the warehouse, though.  Needles, instruments, those paper booties they put over your shoes.”

Negan nodded.  “You hungry?  I’ll send up some fuckin’ grub.”  He smiled when Bill looked about close to tears.  He’d been fed while he was at Sanctuary, but during his detox he was constantly vomiting and unable to keep down much of anything except broth.

“What about weak points?  Used to be an army base, so I’d think it would be pretty well fuckin’ set.”  Negan recalled the reports from Dwight, but wanted to hear what an insider had to say.  As Bill thought for a moment, Negan whistled again, and Fat Joey appeared.  He ordered Fat Joey to bring up some food for their guest, and Joey looked less than pleased to be sent on another trip, but obliged.

Bill nodded and wiped his lips.  His voice was less gravelly and dry, and he was calmer.  The healing powers of water.  “It wouldn’t be easy to attack,” he said.  “The field has traps set up, ditches and shit mainly for walkers.  There were rumors that mines were out there, one guy swore he saw a herd get blasted before I was there.  The traps- they keep ‘em pretty visible with little cones and shit so patrols don’t step on ‘em.  The fence ain’t electrified, although it used to be, I guess.  It sags in some places- before we left I even brought it up to my boss there.”

He laughed for a second, but then his face dropped.  A kind of regret haunted his face.  “That son-of-a-bitch just told me to mind my own goddamn business.  In fact, most of the bosses and guards were sons-of-bitches.”  He glanced up, meeting Negan’s eye.  Bill’s head cocked as he considered a thought.

“You don’t seem like a son-of-a-bitch.  An asshole, maybe-“  Negan barked out a laugh and slapped the table.  Bill continued, “But, you don’t seem like a son-of-a-bitch.  I’ll give it to you straight there, I don’t like being told to mind my own goddamn business when I’m trying to be helpful.  You wouldn’t do that to your people, right?”

The concrete room was silent except for the squeaking of Negan’s chair as he knelt forward.  “Bill, you give it to be straight, and I’ll give it to you straight.  You’re right- I am an asshole.  But I just have a few rules for my people here.  Easy, simple rules.  And they aren’t too bad either.  I don’t have a secret goddamn warehouse around here.  My office is only for the invited, but if something were on fuckin’ fire, you sure as shit can interrupt.  If my people have a good goddamn suggestion, I’ll listen to it.  I may not take that suggestion, but I’ll listen.  I don’t shoot my people up with who-the-fuck-knows-kinds of drugs.  I ain’t a goddamn saint, I’ll do some shit you don’t like.”

Negan picked up Lucille and looked at her barbs carefully.  “Hell, I’ll even fuckin’ kill you if you break the goddamn rules.  But, I’m not a sneaky, creepy fuckin’ weasel of a man.  I mean what I say.  What I do, I do for my people.  Well, I do _mostly_ for my people.  A little bit I do for my own ego, a dick-swinging, so to speak.  But I don’t want to run a place with mindless fuckin’ drones.  Where’s the fun in that?  Jesus Christ!”

An air of understanding blew between them.  The tension in the room dissipated a bit while Bill thought for a moment.  “Alright, mister.  I will tell you what I know in hopes that when you get that Typhon bastard, you’ll do us all a favor and skin him alive and burn his body.”

“Shit man, I don’t know if I’d go that far.  But I’ll bash his fuckin’ brains in with Lucille, here.  How ‘bout that?”

“There’s a destroyed building on one side that could provide some cover, it’s not patrolled very well usually because of all the broken glass and concrete over there.  The fence is pretty busted there too, so there are just stacks of shit to keep walkers out.  He keeps a lot of patrols, both in the base and outside the perimeter, but I couldn’t say where outside exactly.  The woods nearby, around the entire perimeter I would imagine.  I just know he likes to keep things close, he’s pretty paranoid.”

Bill began to describe the layout of the base, generally matching the crude sketch that Dwight had brought.  He filled in more details about the nature of each building, what was around it, and all sorts of particulars that may or may not be helpful.

Negan smiled slowly as Bill rattled on, a plan formulating.  Finally, when Bill seemed to be out of words and out of energy, Negan slapped his hands on the table, pleased as punch.  “Good.  Good, Bill, you’ve been a huge fuckin’ help.  It’s been a real fuckin’ treat.”  He stood up, slinging Lucille over his shoulder.  “I assume you don’t want your ass to return back?”

Bills eyes widened and he held up his bound hands in protest.  “No, no, sir.  I’ve had my fill.  Honestly, I didn’t know there were many other settlements left out there prospering.  Master-er, Typhon I mean, keeps a lot of people in the dark.  You get your assignment and stick to it, don’t need to know much else.”

Negan nodded, a smile growing.  _Information withholding, smart fucker._ A common practice, especially used in military for sensitive assignments.  Give people an assignment, like building a specific piece of machinery, but don’t give them the bigger picture of what they are actually building.  Keep them in the dark.

“Bill, like I said earlier: around here we just ask that you follow a few rules and earn your keep.  You didn’t kill any of my men, just got caught in a pursuit that we fuckin’ won.  If you’re interested, you can stay.  You’ll be in a shit job at first, and we’ll keep a close fuckin’ eye on you, but you prove yourself, and the sky is the fuckin’ limit.”

Bill nodded eagerly.  Negan continued, “You’ll still sleep here at night, but we’ll bring in a cot and shit, and maybe someday soon, if you’re a good little boy, you can stay in the barracks.”

“Yes, sir.  Thank you.”

“But first, you gotta say the magic words.”

Bill looked confused for a moment.  “Uh, please?”

“Hah!  Good, but no.  I forgot you’ve been locked up here.  Just say, ‘ _I am Negan.’_   See, around here I’m in charge.  But _we are all Negan_.”

“Uh… so I’m not Bill?”

“Nah, you’re still fuckin’ Bill.  But you are Negan, should anyone else fuckin’ ask who you are.”

Bill looked confused.  Negan laughed and slapped his shoulder, nearly causing the man to fall from his chair.

“Ah, it’ll fuckin’ make sense later.”

“Alright, sir.  I am Negan?”

Negan smiled and turned to walk away, but seemed to consider and turned back around.  He leaned into Bill, so close he could count eyelashes.  “And if you _ever_ fuckin’ betray us, or try any shady shit, I will not hesitate to bash your fuckin’ head in with my gorgeous girl Lucille here.  Got it?”

Bill nodded quickly.  “Yes, sir.  Thank you.”

Negan then turned and left the cell, whistling pleasantly.

_I do believe it’s time to pay ol’ Rick the Prick another visit,_ he thought.  Unfortunately, he needed that smug motherfucker for the plan that was slowly coming together.

 

/ / / / /

The world was spinning.  Lucy leaned against a wall in the hallway, her heart racing and mouth watering as she felt bile bubble in her throat.  _Please don’t throw up right here._   Oh god.  Why did she agree to this?  It had been a day since Jenna had told her about the missing wife, and she had been so distracted by that she forgot about her arrangement.

Joanie had asked her several days ago if she wanted to do a project with the kids, a classroom project.  Joanie didn’t know Lucy’s full story, just that she had lost some kids and didn’t like being around them anymore.  She got it in her mind that some exposure therapy would be prudent, and the kids needed something to do, anyways.

Lucy agreed hastily when asked, trying to appear strong but dying just a little inside.  She’d robotically prepped a project this afternoon, trying not to think about the runaway wife, The Order…and where the hell was Negan?  Was their date a dud?  She thought it had been fine…

She shook her head clear – he lost a second wife, he was probably distracted enough with a settlement to run.

_He doesn’t need you, silly girl._  

The classroom door popped open and Joanie appeared, friendly and warm.  “C’mon in, honey.”

Lucy flashed the barest of smiles and walked in.  About ten children of varying ages sat in little classroom desks, curious at the new face.  They had little nametags folded on their desks.

“Well class, this is my friend, Miss Lucy.  Can we say hello?”

“Hello, Miss Lucy,” they chirped.  A little boy with glasses mended by tape wiggled in his seat, trying to sit still.

Joanie beamed at the children.  “Miss Lucy’s got a fun project for us all!  She’s going to tell us about it, then we’ll head outside and get started!”

Lucy walked to the front, hoping the kids couldn’t see her legs shaking or trembling hands.  Some of their faces were so familiar, like faded copies of the children she once knew.  She looked at their foreheads while she spoke, unable to make eye contact yet.  “Hi y’all.  My name’s Lucy.  Miss Joanie asked me to come in!  We’re going to do a project outside, it’s such a pretty day!  You have very nice gardens out there, but the garden beds aren’t very tall, are they?”

The more she spoke, the more she relaxed.  Like riding a bike.

“The dirt spills out a lot,” said the little boy with glasses, named Henry based on the nametag.   “’Specially when it rains.  People step in dirt and my mom gets mad.  She cleans floors and has to mop up dirty boots.”

“Well, that’s no good!”  Lucy cried.  “We need that dirt to stay put.  Have you all learned about plants and how they grow?”

A few scattered nods.  Another boy, Axel, with buck teeth and a buzz cut was picking his nose.  _Ah yes, the little germ factories,_ Lucy thought fondly.  She glanced at Joanie awkwardly.  “Okay, ready to go outside?”

As per usual when children are involved, what should have taken ten minutes took five times as long.  A pitstop to the bathroom, two squabbles, and one tantrum later, they made it outside to a little shaded area underneath umbrellas.  Lucy had set it up so they’d be outside and able to see the goings-on of the Saviors, but out of the way.  They weren’t really building the planters themselves, they had already been constructed earlier, but Lucy had left a few simple tasks for the children to help with.

The littler kids had little signposts to decorate with crop names and hammer together (with watchful supervision), while the bigger kids got to sand down the big planters and drill holes into water collection trays.  They chattered away while they worked, Joanie occasionally swooping in to dissipate a fight or offer words of encouragement.  Lucy sat with the bigger kids, letting them each have a turn with the drill, and showing them safety techniques.  It was a welcome distraction, and she found herself smiling more and more as the day wore on.

Lucy didn’t notice the dark figure watching them from the balcony.

Saviors and other nearby residents watched on with amusement, the children were usually sequestered safely inside, away from bothering anyone.  A group of mechanics had stopped for a smoke break to watch the pretty new girl and the kid’s commotion.  Even Eugene came out to “help,” which mainly involved eating a sandwich and telling the kids how to spell “zucchini” properly.  Little Henry was fascinated by Eugene’s mullet, occasionally reaching over to touch it, then yanking his hand away with a sheepish smile before he could.

When they made the finishing touches on the raised garden beds, the children all lined up to sign their work.  Joanie was the keeper of the permanent marker, having a watchful eye as each child signed and handed the marker back. 

“There won’t be any more “wall art” like the Great Mural Incident of last spring,” Joanie had told Lucy earlier.  Some roguish child had stolen all the colored permanent pens and drew a very creative (and very difficult to clean) mural of robots fighting dinosaurs in one of the storeroom closets last year.  The art had been deemed suitable to stay (Negan’s exact words had actually been “I don’t give a shit, there’s dicks drawn all over the men’s room,” when Kevin had asked what to do), but the children no longer had access to any form of permanent, difficult to clean ink.  Needless to say, signing their work was a novelty they were all taking very seriously.

“Weeeell, doesn’t this look fu-uh, fantastic?” Joanie’s eyes grew wide and she dropped to her knees, the children following.  “Nah, get the hell up.  Oops, sorry kids.  Could’ve been a worse word, though,” he said with a wink. 

Lucy dusted off her hands and walked up.  Her heart was pounding as she looked at Negan, searching his face for any hint of his feelings.  All she found was mild amusement at the goings-on in his yard. 

“We just finished building these garden beds,” she said, turning to the kids.  “You wanna tell him what they do?”  Blank, shy faces indicated they did not.  They were not around Negan often, he was a mysterious, dangerous figure to them and they usually were spirited away when he was angry.  They knew he was bad when he was angry.

Lucy chuckled nervously.  “Alright, I’ll tell him. These are deep enough to let the plants get some healthy roots, not those little piddley planters you have over there.” Negan squinted at the planters before him, then over at the planters on the other side of the yard.  He shrugged and Lucy continued.  

“We’ve built a very basic self-water planter, see how the water will drain out of the bottom and cycle through?  They’ll still need to be topped off, but this will help conserve water.  The kids also made labels for what we’ll grow, too.”  She took several steps back, allowing the work to speak for itself.

Negan paced around the plants, hands behind his back like a drill instructor inspecting barrack beds.  “Well.  I think you kids did a pretty good fu-oh.  Pretty good job.  All this hard work, deserves something nice.  Miss Joanie, you think of that something nice for the kids and your classroom and let Dwight or Simon know.  We’ll make it happen.”

“A dog!”  Henry yelled, but then immediately blushed.  Negan laughed and patted his head.

“Sure, we’ll keep our eyes out.  But we’ll also get something else cool too, okay?”

Joanie nodded, too terrified to speak.  This was the first time she could recall Negan ever directly speaking to her, and it was just as terrifying as she had imagined, despite her usual bluster and sharp words.  A little girl tugged on her shirt, gesturing for the marker.  Joanie dropped it wordlessly into the little girl’s hand.

As the children finished signing, Negan drifted towards Lucy, out of earshot of the children.  He leaned in, hand on the small of her back.

“Good work, doll,” he said, too close as always, tickling the small hairs on her neck.  She smiled and leaned into him, bumping him with her shoulder as an unspoken thank you.

“What are you doing tonight?” he growled.

“Well, seeing as I busted my ass on this all day, I gotta bust my ass on your vehicle.  Eugene can only do so much, and we’re getting close to finishing.”

“What, so…no _distractions?_ I outta talk to the asshole who runs this place…”

“While you’re at it, tell ‘em we’ll need coffee.  Lots of it,” she said, turning on her heel before he could retort.  She heard him chuckle and she bit back a smile.

_You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart._

_/ / / / /_

**AN:  Negan's getting closer and closer to taking care of this business with the Order!  Thanks to H and ElektraWitch for providing comments, and thanks for all the Kudos the past week!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Someone had to pay.  Sherry was gone, long gone, but Negan couldn’t just let it go.  Granted, he had technically given her permission, but hadn’t fully thought out the consequences.  As far as everyone else knew, Sherry hadn’t just fled from Sanctuary.  She had fled from _Negan._  If he just let her go, no consequences made, what would stop the rest of his people from high-tailing it?  They weren’t captives, necessarily, but people were dumb.  They made dumb decisions, and one of those would be fleeing while the Order was out there, while walkers roamed.  He’d lose perfectly capable people to fear and bad decisions.

The axe needed to fall.  They needed to see that it was not okay to just up and leave.

Dwight had come to Negan earlier, nervous and twitchier than usual, stating he had found a letter in Dr. Carson’s desk.  A letter from Sherry, explaining herself.  Negan knew it was bullshit, she’d probably left it for Dwight and he found some sort of way of showing Negan without ratting himself out.  But fuck, losing a doctor?  That was too much- a nearly irreplaceable resource in these times. 

Negan sat at his desk, balling his hand into a fist and then flattening it.  Dwight had drafted up a list of the people on watch the night Sherry left.  Who could be a fall guy, without being an obvious fall guy?  It was always a shame to kill an innocent, but if it kept everyone in line, kept everyone safe…was it worth it?

_Fucking monster.  You’re a monster._

Echoes from the past.  Always haunting, always watching.  He glanced at Lucille, perched on her chair. 

“Do I fucking ‘eeny meeny miney mo’ it? Let ol’ Lady Luck decide?” he asked.  Lucille didn’t respond, the bitch.

A knock at the door.

“Yeah?”

Snake walked in.  “Hey boss.  I asked around, the guys on duty that night.”

“Good.  What the fuck did you find out?”

“Well, none of ‘em saw anything except one guy, Ben, said he thought he saw someone talking to Al at the gate.  The other guy on duty with Al went to take a piss.  Ben heard the gate creak, but he thought it was Al’s sister sneaking out, she did that sometimes.  The teacher lady, she sneaks out I guess sometimes to clear her head.  I checked with her.  She and her bunkmates swear she was here that night.  Four witnesses can place her here all night, it wasn’t her leaving.”

_Fucking Al._  Shit.  He wasn’t a valuable resource, but he had been a decent guy.  Useful.  An old-timer that didn’t take shit but helped out the younger guys with semi-sage wisdom and occasionally terrible advice.  Negan would take little pleasure in making an example out of him.

_It has to be fucking done._

Negan sighed and rubbed his eyes.  “Alright.  Gather everybody in by the fuckin’ furnace in an hour.  Go get fucking Al and secure him.  Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

Negan got cleaned up, hair slicked and his traditional garb on: white shirt, leather jacket, red bandana.  Gotta make a good appearance, and all.  He avoided looking himself in the eye in the mirror.  If he did, he might just chickenshit out.  What the hell was wrong with him?  He hadn’t questioned himself this bad before.  Sure, he’d feel a little bad killing someone that maybe didn’t deserve it, but the necessity of the thing always outweighed any doubts.  This time, he just had a bad taste in his mouth.  He took a swig of bourbon straight from the bottle, not bothering with a glass.  Just a little extra motivation needed, calm the nerves he hadn’t felt before an ‘example setting.’

He grabbed Lucille and opened the office door to see Kevin and Simon waiting expectantly in the hallway.  Simon looked smug, ready for a good offing.  Kevin looked grim.

Simon nodded at Negan. “Everyone’s waiting, sir.”

“Good.”

Kevin looked like he might say something, but decided against it.  Onward they went, through the long winding hallways, footsteps echoing.

When he approached the metal walkway overlooking the furnace room, a hundred or so residents kneeled immediately.  _As it should be._   He spied his two remaining wives, clutching each other with grim faces, which annoyed Negan.  No one had even fucking died yet, and they already looked miserable.  They knew.  They knew who he was, and yet it surprised them every time.  He scanned the crowd but didn’t spy Lucy, but he sensed she was in there somewhere.  Her eyes were on him, somewhere.

Negan nodded to the crowd.  “As you were.”  The crowd stood to attention, and Negan waited a few seconds for the shuffling to halt.

“You have all become fucking aware by now, that I am down not one, but two fuckin’ wives.  _‘But Negan,’_ you might fuckin’ ask.  _‘Who on Earth would leave such a man?_ ’  The first, we all know, tried to fucking _kill me_.  In a benevolent fuckin’ gesture, she was exiled.  Amber was clearly unhappy in her fuckin’ situation.”  Negan strode down a few steps with swagger, slowly making his way down to the furnace.  In the center of the crowd, Al was bound and gagged to a chair, wriggling occasionally with a muffled sob.

“The second incident is with my first wife.  The apple of my fuckin’ eye, got spooked and bolted.  The point of exile was not a fucking _invitation._   You all remember out there?”  He pointed Lucille towards the walls of Sanctuary.  Murmurs filled the crowd, which hushed quickly.  Negan’s eyes narrowed, but he continued.  “Out there, _out fuckin’ there_ , are undead pricks that want to fuckin’ kill you.  Tear you apart limb from limb, rip open your fuckin’ body and get all your juicy goddamn organs.  Out there, are fuckin’ fucked up motherfuckers who are kidnapping women to do God knows what.  Out there are rapists, murderers, looters, and raiders, sharpening their fuckin’ knives to slit your goddamn throat and steal YOUR shit.”  His boots hit concrete, finally at ground level amongst his people, yet still towering over them.

“You want out there?  GO.  Go and die out there painfully.  Or stay here and help build a fuckin’ civilization.  Some day, when we are strong enough, we will deal with the Out There and make it a fuckin’ livable place.  But first, we have to fucking WORK together.  And what does that involve?”

Silence.  An ant fart could be heard, the silence was so deafening.

Negan continued.  “That’s fuckin’ right.  FOLLOW.  THE.  RULES!” He twirled Lucille, slung her over his shoulder.  He strolled over to Al, whose blotchy red face was screwed up in panic.

“One rule is, don’t open the fuckin’ gate without my goddamn permission, _especially_ at fuckin’ night.  _Especially_ when there is a fuckin’ cult out there snapping at our fuckin’ heels.  Now Al, here,” Negan pointed Lucille at Al’s head, inches away.  Al cringed and shirked away as far as he could from Lucille’s barbs.  “He broke the goddamn rule, and let my fuckin’ wife out there.  Ex-fuckin’-wife, now.  Had he re-fuckin’-frained, we might have avoided that situation and resolved whatever was going on in her pretty, yet fuckin’ confused little head.”

He turned to the crowd, spotting Lucy and Eugene finally.  Eugene looked as per usual, scared shitless.  Lucy’s face was grave, eyes pleading.

_Don’t do this.  Please don’t do this._

Negan’s stomach dropped a little.  He had to, though.  If he looked weak, this all would come tumbling down.  Everything they worked for, everything they sacrificed to get here.  He just…had to.

“I am no longer feeling fuckin’ benevolent, since THAT seemed to bite me in the ass.  Follow the fuckin’ rules, and nobody gets hurt.  But break the rules…”

He trailed off and turned to look at Al.  Al whimpered.  His face was streaked with sweat and snot.

Now or never.

_I’m so sorry, Al.  They have to see.  They have to see what happens._

Negan wound up, cranking Lucille back.  Just as the crowd collectively gasped, _CRACK._   Lucille made contact, hard and fast.  Al’s skull cracked and the impact knocked him over, still bound to the chair.  AN animalistic sound filled the hair, the wailing of an injured animal.  Negan swung one more time in a finishing move, trying to end it quickly.  Someone sobbed, probably Al’s sister.  _I’m sorry,_ he thought.  His mouth tasted sour, but his face remained calm.

“-And there will be fuckin’ consequences,” he said to his people.  His voice was casual, as if he’d just shook Al’s hand instead of cracking his skull open like a melon.

“DO I MAKE MYSELF FUCKING CLEAR?”  His voice boomed, ricocheting off the rafters.  Negan filled the vast room in any way he could.

“Yes,” was the scattered reply.  A few were crying, and someone was holding in sobs.

Negan turned to his men.  “Clean this shit up.”  He turned back, scanning the crowd for Lucy, but he only saw Eugene.  He smiled to everyone, charming and non-plussed.  “As you fuckin’ were.”

He strolled back up the stairs as everyone went back to their lives.  He kept his swagger, but quickened his pace as he went through the empty hallways, finally breaking into a run as he got closer to his office.  He’d barely made it into the bathroom before he vomited in the sink, dropping bloodied Lucille on the bathroom floor with a clatter.  She splattered blood and brain on the bathroom floor, but Negan didn’t care.  He rinsed his mouth out with water, and glanced up into the mirror.  He nearly fell over in shock.

In the reflection, behind him, was his dead wife, Lucille.  She was in her hospital gown, as he’d seen her last before…before.

She looked like a walker- rotted and foul, no longer the beautiful, sad woman he’d married so long ago.  She opened her mouth, full of broken teeth, and pointed a crooked finger at him.

“ _Monnnnsterrrr…”_ she hissed.

He blinked in surprise, and she was gone.  He sighed shakily and collapsed onto the tiled floor, sobbing.

No one ever said ruling was easy.

/ / / / /

“Shhhh,” Joanie soothed Lisette as she vomited in a vacant toilet stall.  Jenna swore and kicked a nearby stall door, the metal door clanging against metal.  Nothing was fair.

“Who the fuck does that?  No warning, nothing.  Like Al was going to turn away one of the wives, and get his ass kicked later.   That stupid bitch probably told him it was Negan’s orders.”  She glowered at Lucy.  “I told you, somebody was going to pay.”

Lisette choked on a sob, coughing and sputtering until Lucy arrived with a bottle of water and some clean rags.  Joanie grabbed the water and Lucy began to wet down a cloth, placing it on Lisette’s neck to help calm her down.

“That miserable – son of a bitch,” Lisette choked.  “That was my BROTHER.  He-he never would have done anything really wrong.  He just let that poor woman out.  Probably trying to escape that miserable son of a bitch.”

Lucy was silent, guilt gnawing away at her stomach.  Torn, pulled in two different directions.  She felt the loosening of threads down her center, as if two children were pulling over her like a ragdoll.  Al hadn’t deserved it, everyone knew it and no one said anything.  Negan had saved her life, and yet other human lives were expendable.  Why?

Lisette turned to her, fire burning in her eyes.  “Did you know about this?  Did you know about Al?”

Lucy shook her head.  “No!  Of course not!  I never-“

“You could have saved him!”  Lisette sobbed.

Joanie stroked her hair.  “Honey, I’m sure she didn’t know.  Negan doesn’t share his plans-”

Lisette slapped her hand away.  “No you don’t!  Get her out of here, the fucking Judas!”  She turned to Lucy, full of venom.  “These dumbasses may think you’re clever or fun to be around, but you stay the hell away from me!  You’ll spread your legs for him but let innocent people die?!”

Lucy began to tear up, eyes darting between Joanie and Jenna as she backed out of the bathroom.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…I’m so sorry,” she murmured. 

Jenna gave a sad nod.  “I know, honey.  Probably best though if you leave.  It’s okay.”

Lucy turned and left, the sounds of Lisette’s sobs reverberating into the hallway.

_You’ll let innocent people die._

What the hell did she have to do with anything?  She saw Negan sporadically, when it was convenient for him.  One day he’d be flirtatious and dying for a date, then she didn’t hear from him for a few days.  Granted, he was a busy guy, but they lived in the same goddamn building.  He shared a meal with her but certainly not his grand plans.

She needed to pour her energy into something.  A vessel inside of her felt like the contents were spilling over the edges, muddying her mind and emotions.  She went to Eugene’s room to grab her work gloves and a change of clothes, mind buzzing while she fought back tears.

Negan was sitting on the bed when she arrived, leaning his elbows on his knees.  Lucy’s heart sunk.  She really hadn’t wanted to see him yet, with Lisette’s words ringing in her ears still.  Lucy couldn’t stop picturing the killing.  Flashes of Negan swinging Lucille with ease, blood splattering like raindrops on the concrete floor.  She wanted to see him like at the maze, the cabin, or on their little date - rough but sweet, teasing eyes and a charming smile.  But all she could see was his malevolent smile, the ease in which he shrugged off brutality.

“Hey,” was all she managed to choke out.  _Smooth._

Negan looked up, but offered nothing else.  This was not the same man from downstairs.  He looked tired, worn out.  Blood was still splattered on his boots, the calves of his jeans.  Badges of earlier deeds.

His silence made Lucy nervous.  “What are you doing here?”  she asked as she collected her things in a bag. 

“Dunno.  I didn’t want to go back to my office.”  He continued to stare at the floor, his voice emptier than his eyes.  “You weren’t in the workshop.  I was hoping you’d be in here.  Where the fuck were you?”

Lucy sighed and set the bag by the door.  She spied Lucille propped up next to the door frame, a small pool of blood forming below.  Her stomach turned.

“Jesus fucking Christ, can you rinse her off before mucking up the floor in here?”  She took Lucille gingerly and walked her to the sink, a trail of droplets following behind.  Lucille was placed in the basin, but Lucy made no further efforts to clean her.  Negan can clean up his own goddamn mess.

“Where the fuck were you?”  He asked again, softly.

Lucy sighed.  “Why?  I was in the ladies room, trying and failing at comforting Al’s _sister_ , who is hysterical.  I was accused of fucking you and knowing he would die, called a traitor, and came back here so I could get ready to work in the workshop.  I probably lost the only friends I had in this place.”

“We’re not friends?”

“I don’t know what the hell we are, Negan.  I lost the only _girl_ friends I had in this place.  Better?”

“I had to do it.  You _know_ that.”

“Did you?  Seems to me you don’t _have_ to do anything you don’t want to do here.”

Negan stood up, life finally flickering back into his eyes.  “I keep people fuckin’ safe- they don’t follow the rules, I gotta dole out the fuckin’ punishment.  It ain’t pretty, but I’m the only one with the stomach for the job.”

“Then why are you up here, hiding?”  Her words cut deep, getting to a truth that he had been trying to avoid.  “If you’re looking for a quickie, you will be sorely disappointed.”

“Christ, I’m not!  I just-I just wanted to fuckin’ see you, that’s all.  Al was a good guy, I didn’t fuckin’ enjoy that.”

“He didn’t deserve it.  He just opened the gate.  What if she told him it was your orders?  Or that she would be back? He was a scapegoat and you know it, because you couldn’t punish her for leaving.  You didn’t even try to see another option.”

He flexed his fists, clenching and unclenching.  “No.”

“No what?  He wasn’t a scapegoat?”

Negan sighed and sat back down on the bed heavily.  He looked like a parishioner ready for confession, shoulders heavy with the burden of sin.

“Negan, your actions have consequences for others, too.  You may think you’re teaching other people a lesson, but what about Lisette?  She hates you now.  She might spread discord, she is already talking shit about me now.  Poisoning the well.”

She fought back tears and angrily kicked a stray shoe across the room.  “Goddammit Negan, I was finally belonging.  I had friends, a place to call home.  I’m going to be a fuckin’ pariah here now.” 

“I couldn’t punish Sherry for leaving.  I told her to leave.”

Lucy slumped down on the edge of the sofa in shock.  “What?  Why?”

“She wasn’t fuckin’ happy.  I wasn’t fuckin’ happy that she wasn’t happy.  She didn’t want to be here, wanted to try her chances out there.  I didn’t fuckin’ feel like fighting her anymore.  You think I like seeing my wives look at me like I’m fuckin’…like I’m a monster?”

Lucy stood, mouth agape.  “So, you killed a man for something you TOLD someone to do?”

Negan looked up, glaring.  “No.  I didn’t mean for her to leave _now_.  Not with the fuckin’ cult out there.  I would have thought of something better, maybe taken her on a run and said walkers got her when I came back.  Or hell, if things seemed okay, I might have just let her leave without some big theatrical shit going on.  I told her to leave when I was horny and pissed, I wasn’t thinking it through very well at the time.”

“So you killed a man.  For something you told Sherry to do.”

She had him there.  He was trapped.  “I couldn’t fuckin’ let people think it’s safe to go out there, I couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.”

“So you killed someone to prevent losing people?  That doesn’t even make sense.  Put him on laundry duty, have him scrub the bathrooms with toothbrushes or send him to an outpost no one wants.   You think they’re that stupid that they want to leave the safety of Sanctuary because you let people leave on their own accord?  Jesus, you’re never going to have anyone’s true loyalty if they just fear you.”

Negan strode towards her, searching her eyes for something.  “Fear is a useful tactic.”

Lucy put her hands on his chest and pushed him back a few steps.  “But it’s not long-term.  People get tired of being afraid, and revolt.  It’s the oldest story in history, doomed to be repeated for the rest of our miserable lives.  Fear works short-term, but things boil underneath.  There’ll be a coup eventually, and you’ll never see if coming if everyone is too scared of you.”

Negan didn’t say anything in response.

Lucy began gathering up more things, her toothbrush, hairbrush, more clothes.  Negan watched her with growing dread, but refused to show it.

“You fuckin’ leaving too?  Can’t stand to be around me anymore?”

“No, you arrogant bastard.  I don’t want to stay in here anymore.  I’m going back to the workshop.  Eugene can have his room back.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ say he could.”

“Then I’ll sleep with him in the backroom.  There’s extra cots.  I’m not staying in here anymore!”

“Why not? Say it.”

“Say what?  I don’t want to be in here right now.  It’s stifling, I can’t stand it!”

“You’ve been fine the past week or so, what’s changed?”

“A fog is lifting...I’m seeing things a little more clearly.  Without all the warm and fuzzies that-  Listen, I appreciate you saving my life, I do.  I have fun when we aren’t being terrorized by the cultists, and we need to focus on that instead of…”  She gestured vaguely in the air between them.  “Whatever this is.  Priorities, you know?”

Negan looked down at her.  He tilted her head up.  “Say that while you look at me.”

She met his eyes without hesitation.  “We need to focus on The Order, first.  They are a huge threat.”

“You think I don’t fuckin’ know that?  Jesus, they are taking women and dumping their bodies.  They may be fuckin’ watching us. I don’t know what the hell they want, but I’ve got a plan to deal with them.  I promise.”

She let out a sigh.  “Good.  That’s good.”

“But that still don’t change things, huh?”

She shook her head sadly.  “No.  I can’t be in here.  I need…to think.  I need space, I need air.”

“Because of me?”

She looked into his eyes.  There was no evil there, lurking behind.  A little bit of badness, yes.  Cruelty?  Misjudgement?  Perhaps.  But no evil.  There was a soul in there, and some good, too.

“Yes, because of your actions.  I don’t want to leave Sanctuary, I can tell you that.  But I don’t like the things you do, not anymore.  I don’t agree with it.  I can maybe live with it, I just don’t know.”

“Well goody fuckin’ gumpdrops, I am fuckin’ _honored_ that you are considering staying here longer, me being the goddamn monster that I am.  I’m sorry to have driven you the fuck out of here, doll.”  His anger was boiling over now, frustration and fear clawing at his throat, squeezing his neck.  A tightening noose that he couldn’t free himself from.

Lucy grabbed her bags and looked back, tears rolling down her cheeks.  “I never said you were a monster, Negan.  You aren’t.  You’re a good man, you just make…decisions that I don’t agree with.  But I’ll never lie to you, honey.  I need some air, some space.  You know where I’ll be.”

Negan watched her, emotions swirling and fighting one another for dominance.  “I’m sorry, Lucy.”

“I know.  I’m sorry, too.”

The door clicked shut with finality.

 

/ / / / /

Negan drank deeply from the glass of bourbon.  As far as break-ups go, this one was one of the toughest.  They hadn’t even really been an item, but he didn’t know how else to label it.   It sure fucking felt like a break up, at least emotionally.  They usually involved more yelling, sometimes thrown dishes. This one just felt like a knife in his heart.

Because of him.

No one else had made him question his leadership so quickly, and regret things so easily.  Not since Lucille, at least.  Not since his first wife.

He stumbled into his bedroom, barely pulling off his boots before he collapsed into bed.

_Please, please don’t have any dreams tonight,_ he thought.

But they came anyways, dark and twisted, as always.

 

/ / / / /

It was late.  Lucy sat at a table in the workshop, a single light illuminating some papers before her.  She had scarcely choked out that Eugene could have his room back before she watched the back of his mullet dash through the door, the door slamming behind him.  She swore she saw a tear of happiness roll down his cheek, but he left too quickly to confirm.

Lucy worked her frustrations out on the almost-ready MRAP through hammering, drilling, and welding before finally coming back to the table to review their plans.

She rubbed her eyes, exhausted and sore and tired and so many other words that failed to come to mind.  She set her head down on the table and began to sob.  Torrential sobs that threatened to rip her ribcage and split her head.  Tears kept coming and coming, she feared she would fill the room and drown, like in Alice in Wonderland.

Over the sound of her crying, she didn’t notice the door open carefully, recently oiled to reduce any creaking.  She didn’t hear the soft footsteps approach, covered with old rags to muffle the sound.  She didn’t hear the pipe swing and it connect with the back of her head.

All she felt was despair, and a broken heart.

And then darkness.

 

/ / / / /

**AN:  Lots of feels this chapter.  Actions have consequences, and oftentimes we don't think of how effects can ripple into others we know and care about- an important lesson for Negan to learn, I think.  Thanks to H and ElektraWitch for the comments last week, and for all those who gave kudos! xoxoxo**


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Negan woke up with a start, unable to determine if the pounding he heard was in his head, or the door.  As the fog of fitful sleep lifted, he discovered (with a groan) that it was both.

“What the FUCK do you want?” he hollered, pulling on a clean shirt.  He’d fallen asleep in his pants still splattered with blood, but he would have to change later.  The knocking at the door continued, persistent, until he heard a brief argument erupt.  Dwight burst in with a red-faced Eugene in tow.

Negan just glared at them.  “Well?”

Dwight nudged Eugene, whose face was blotchy and tear-streaked.  When Eugene still stood in abject terror, Dwight rolled his eyes and sighed.  “The girl’s gone.  Lucy.”

Negan froze halfway through pulling on his boots.  “What the fuck do you mean, she’s gone?”

Eugene found his voice, and took a tentative step forward.  Before he opened his mouth, Negan held up a hand.  “You tell me what the fuck is up in ten seconds or less, or I’ll bash your fuckin’ brain in too.”

Eugene gulped.  “I suspect foul play, not a consensual flight.  Signs of a struggle.  Blood,” he managed to stammer out.

Negan’s eyes narrowed.   “Show me.”

A few minutes later they were in the workshop.  All was quiet.  A mug commonly used by Lucy, was sitting on the nearby table amongst a litter of tissues.  Negan felt a pang as he imagined her crying, alone, in the workshop.  The only signs of anything amiss was an overturned stool.  There wasn’t much of a sign of anything else.  Negan turned to Eugene, hands outstretched and eyebrows raised, as if to ask where the fuck the struggle was.

“She would never leave this in disarray.  And observe-“  Eugene bent over the table, and pointed to a few dark red splatters, barely noticeable.  He pointed to the ground leading to the door, a few more spots stained the sawdust-sprinkled floor.  Finally on the inside of the door, barely visible were a three small fingerprints, bloodied and smeared.  He stood up, stone-faced.  “I believe Lucy was abducted, not of her own accord.  Before I left last night, she indicated she was going to work on a few more things here, and it appears she had worked a bit on the vehicle.  She must have been looking at the blueprints when the abductor got her.”

Negan clenched his jaw so hard, his molars might just crack.  He slid Lucille through his hands, absentmindedly trailing his gloved fingers on the wooden handle, before suddenly gripping her tight and swinging at a nearby box.  Screws and nails went flying, scattered on the ground like fat raindrops in a summer storm. “FUCK!” he screamed.  Eugene took a nervous step back, bumping slightly into Dwight who nudged him over in irritation.

Negan pointed to Dwight.  “You.  Talk to whoever the fuck was on watch last night.  Check in and see if anyone else is fuckin’ missing.  NOW!”  Dwight slipped out the door, quickly and quietly.

Next was Eugene.  “You. You do some CSI bullshit and see if you can find anything else, a trail or whatever the fuck – actually, go get Daryl.  I think they came in yesterday.”  Eugene clamored out, nervous and noisy.

Alone in the workshop, Negan scanned the area.  Pacing, pacing, pacing.  Jesus, would it ever stop?  If it wasn’t one fucked-up thing, it was another. 

_Monster.  She was taken because of you, you monster._

Shaking the thought out of his head, he went into the back storeroom.  It had been cleaned up into a nice, livable area now, no stray storage boxes cluttering it up.  Next to a cot were Lucy’s things, fairly thrown together in a bag.  Her green banana sat crumpled on top.  Negan picked it up and stared at it, letting it run through his fingers.

When he first saw her, fierce and free on the maze, her person was secondary to the skills she possessed.  She would prove immensely useful at Sanctuary, he thought.  It had all been about getting her away from the maze, clearing her mind.  Although Negan could admit that he found her fascinating as well- he still did.  She was almost always on his mind in increasing frequency as of late, and he had to constantly fight the urge to go find her, be near her.  Now, she may be gone forever, before he ever had a chance to…

He shoved the bandana in his jacket pocket and lumbered out of the workshop, squinty-eyed and surly as he made his way back to the factory.  _Was this an inside job, or was it The Order?_   The cult seemed to like to announce their actions, tease and warn where they had been.  They liked to take women when they were out beyond their walls in groups, to increase the unease of the settlements and keep them huddled at home.

This had been sneaky, not the work of someone trying to leave a message.  An inside job... the work of a rat.

/ / / / /

_Wumph. Wumph. Wumph._

Blood throbbed in Lucy’s head, a powerful ache that made her sick to her stomach.  She blinked a few times, the world a dark blurry fog.  She heard the deep murmur of another voice, but wasn’t able to distinguish words.  Her tongue felt like sandpaper, her head full of water and lolling about.  She was unable to hold it up for very long.  It smelled dusty and damp.

Tingles and pinpricks crept up her arms, the fog slowly dissipating.  The murmuring continued.  As the world slowly sharpened, she realized her hands were above her head, bound.  Her eyes widened as realization set in, vague memories of being stricken over the head, dragged out of the workshop.  Shoved into something soft and dark, then more darkness.

She blinked some more and looked around.  She was gagged, the cloth wet with saliva and blood.  The room lurched and swayed as she struggled to focus.  The room was solid cement, industrial and functional, illuminated by a lantern covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt.  Her hands were bound to a sturdy pipe above her, and she was sitting on the cold concrete floor, legs splayed awkwardly.  Something pulled at her hair and her head was forced towards a face.

_David._

That sick bastard.  He was talking to her- no, at her.  Lucy wondered about that time in the workshop, when David cornered her before Eugene interrupted.  Was this his plan before?  Or was this a new development?  She blinked heavily, still not able to focus on what he was saying.  A finger grazed her cheek softly, and her stomach turned.  A knife glimmered in his hand.  He waved it mockingly at her, then turned and left through a metal door, a solid lock clanked shut.  Thankfully, the lantern was left behind, a pitiful amount of light better than no light at all.

She appeared to be in some empty room, probably in a basement.  She tested her bindings- secure.  Well-practiced.  Through manipulating her tongue and jaw painfully, she was able to spit the gag out.  It hung around her neck like a bad omen.

_Think, think._

The room was fairly bare, hardly anything helpful in terms of sharp objects.  A bucket was nearby, unidentifiable layer of sludge on the bottom.  Lucy decided not to think about the buckets purpose quite yet.  She wriggled her wrists, over and over and over.  The rope burned her skin from the friction and tiny scratches began to bleed.  She muffled a cry of pain as her right wrist slipped free, although the left remained firmly bound, albeit sore now.  She felt around the floor around her, finding only dust and wet spots from the pipes dripping.  She felt along the pipes she could reach, cautiously feeling the air around them for heat before touching them.

Nothing.

A small pile of broken concrete bricks sat in the adjacent corner, long forgotten from a project long ago. Lucy wriggled, sweat pouring down her face from exertion but she couldn’t reach them with her hand.  She shot her foot out, and was able to slowly scoot a piece towards her.  She felt it in her free hand, solid and heavy.  It was about the size of a coffee mug, but solid.  She tried to manipulate it to cut the rope on her bound hand, but the edges were too dull, the cement a poor substitute for a blade.  She slipped it behind her so it would be obscured by her body at first glance.  She didn’t know where David was, and too much noise may alert him before she was ready.

She kept scanning the room and closing her eyes, memorizing where the door was, where the lantern was, the location of the brick pile.  She moved her limbs around and flexed them, making sure she would stay limber as possible under the circumstances.  If the only light went out, she wanted to keep a cool head.

Minutes passed, and then hours. Lucy’s tongue grew thick and heavy, her throat raw.  Her bound hand had grown numb, the rope slightly tighter and impossible to slip out of, but she continuously tried to drag it along the pipe, hoping it would catch a sharp edge and wear down.  She kept the other hand free but decided she should rebind it soon, it would take time to make sure the rope looked undisturbed.  It must be morning by now- would anyone notice she was gone yet?  Eugene would be getting coffee and heading to the workshop soon – he was her only hope right now.  Negan would be keeping her at a distance most likely.  What if they thought the Order took her?  She might be down here for God knows how long…

More time passed.  Lucy thought the rope on her bound hand was a little looser, but it was hard to tell.  Her wrist was bleeding from all the rubbing, each movement now agony.  Her bladder felt full, and she waited until she was desperate before using the foul bucket.  As she finished up and shoved the bucket away, she noticed a circular indent in the floor on the far side of the room from her.  She squinted, then lurched a foot out to try and clear the dust and dirt off of it.  It felt familiar…

_The sewer entrance!_

Here, in this room, all along!  She didn’t know if it was welded shut, or if she could even lift the cover, but if she could get free-

Before she could complete that though, she heard a distance door clang, and slow, heavy footsteps. 

_Shit, shit, shit._

She shoved her free hand in the loose rope, looping it around and hoping he didn’t notice the disturbance.  Her heart was pounding, but she took slow breaths to try and calm herself.   _Play the meek, demure victim, then catch him off guard._

The lock fiddled on the door, she heard a pair of keys drop and some swearing.  _He’s drunk.  Even better._

The door finally swung open, and the vague shape of David loomed in the dark doorway.  His body was barely illuminated by the dull lantern light and his face was just darkness.  He swung a flashlight towards Lucy, causing her to flinch at the sudden blinding light.  Lucy noted he left the door ajar slightly.

“Hello gorgeous,” he said, inching towards her.  “God.  You are- _beautiful._  I get why Negan likes to keep his eye on you.  Too bad they think The Order took you.  I’ll get you allllll to myself,” he sung the last part, swaying slightly.  He reached for his belt buckle and popped it open, sliding the leather through his belt loops.

“I got the whole morning off today.  Lucky for us.”

“P-p-please…” Lucy stammered.  _You stupid ass motherfucker._

“I’ll make you feel real good, honey.”  He set the flashlight on the floor.  Lucy looked up, as if to plead with God, but she checked the visibility of the ropes.  They were barely visible in the low light.

She began to squirm, curling her legs up as if to create a barrier between them.  “P-please.  I won’t tell, just let me go…”

“Nahhhh.  I think I’ll keep you.  You’ll be fun to play with, and no one comes down here anyways.  It won’t be so bad, I’ll get us a nice little bed, bring ya some food in a bit…”  He fumbled with his pants, the button caught on some fabric.  Lucy wriggled her wrist free, but held it above her still.

David got on his knees and crawled towards her, still trying to undo his pants and swearing profusely.  He grabbed one of her feet and yanked it towards him.  Lucy began to whimper, struggle a little but not too much.  He placed a knee on her leg, forcing it down.  He ran his tongue along her cheek, a fat pink slug that smelled like liquor and decay.  Lucy suppressed a gag.

_Bide your time. Not quite yet._

He kneeled over her, a dominant position.  He looked down briefly, finally unhooking the button on his pants.  He cried out in triumph, then belched noisily.

_Now._

While he was distracted, Lucy reached down quickly with her free hand and grasped the brick tucked safely behind her.  She swung it with all her might, months of manual labor providing a strength that surprised even her.  With a sickening _crack,_ the brick connected with David’s skull.  He fell over, eyes wide in shock, mouth twitching like a fish out of water.

Lucy grabbed his shirt, and pulled him closer to her with difficulty.  He was a big guy, tall and full, and it took every scrap of energy she had.  Blood smeared on the floor, as the body inched closer, black streaks in the low light.  She smashed the brick over and over into his skull, until black coated his head, too.  Bits of brain and skull splattered like a Pollock painting.

A wet gurgle escaped his lips, and his legs twitched in death throes.  She set the brick down gently next to his head.  She cried out in shock, in pain, in relief.

He had a knife sheathed on his belt, she quickly snatched it and sawed through the other rope, gasping in relief when her arm flopped down, numb and useless.  Needles shot up her arm as the blood began to circulate again, and she waited, crouched on her knees.  His brain may be too damaged to turn, but a morbid curiously seized her.

She hoped he would turn, so she could kill him one more time.

 

**/ / / / /**

**AN:  Thank you to H for the comment last week!**

**Just to give you all a head's up, I am super busy the next few weeks with life stuff, so posting might not be quite on the nose for the next 3-4 weeks.  Take care, xoxo**


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Negan gripped and regripped Lucille, swinging her back and forth like a baseball player warming up.  He sucked at his thumb when one of her barbs cut through a worn out spot on his gloves – odd, he had never cut himself on her before.  Saviors and residents were lining up in the yard outside Sanctuary being questioned by Dwight and Snake. Eugene was hovering nearby, a cautious distance from Negan, but close enough if he was needed. 

This was taking too long – they’d been looking for a few hours now, the sun creeping up higher the sky, and they had made little progress.  No one had seen anything useful, though most seemed to stammer out useless details in hopes of avoiding Lucille, after darting nervous glances towards Negan. Dead-end after dead-end.

The trail of blood splatters Eugene found had ended at the workshop door.  Eugene and Daryl had scoured the asphalt yard, with no further trace of blood.  However, Daryl found some drag marks in dirt by the workshop that indicated Lucy may have been transported in something.  He was still out looking around for other signs, but with the usual morning activities, the trail seemed cold.

As Negan paced back and forth, half-listening to the confessions and recollections, one of Lucy’s friends jogged up to them. He couldn’t recall her name, she was the black one that looked like she didn’t take shit. She approached Dwight, who was in the middle of a conversation, but something in her eye made Negan approach.  A spark of anger with a hint of fear.  Negan barreled towards them, shoving aside the jumpy resident trying to account for his actions the previous night.

“You know something?” Negan asked the woman.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and Negan almost laughed at her gumption.  Clearly, he wasn’t the one she was hoping to speak to.  She shrugged, “I don’t know.  Maybe…but-is one of your guys supposed to be using the laundry carts?”

Negan’s eyes darkened.  When he didn’t speak, she continued. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’  I saw one of your guys pushing one of the laundry carts earlier this morning and he just left it in the hallway.  I thought it was weird but didn’t think much about it until I heard-“  Her eyebrows furrowed as she fought back tears.  Her jaw was set in the determination of a woman with a mission.  “I think he came from the basement.  No one really goes down there, which is why I thought it was maybe none of my business.  Except it was David, and he’s kind of a fucking creep and-“

“David?” Eugene stepped forward, “He had a laundry transportation vehicle in an unusual location?”

Negan looked back and forth between the two of them.  “What is your goddamn interest in David?  You know something that I should?”

Eugene took a deep breath, casting his eyes down.  “I suppose this should have made it to you some time ago.  A few weeks past, I walked into the workshop and it appeared that David was acting…untoward with Lucy.  He had her in a defensive position trapped against the wall and she appeared to be on the way to distress.  Although I don’t expect her to be a ‘damsel-in-distress’ type, he was one of your men and I suppose she was nervous to take action against him unless provoked.  I did my best to diffuse the situation, and he left.  He was clearly under the influence of too much alcohol, and he seemed to drop the matter.  As far as I know, he had not bothered her since.  I assumed he would not anymore since it was clear that you…esteemed her greatly.  I assumed he got the hint to stay away.”

Negan looked between the both of them and made a sound halfway between a groan and a growl.  _Fucking David._

“Dwight!  Basement!”  He shouted as he headed towards the factory door.

_I’m going to kill that son of a bitch._

 

/ / / / /

David did not turn.  Lucy sat until her feet were numb, knowing he was long dead, but she was unable to move.  No thoughts crossed her mind, no feelings blossomed inside, she just… was.  Just existing. Watching David’s corpse and waiting for her mind to catch up.

Every once in awhile the corpse would twitch or exhale a haunting, rattling sound in between broken teeth and what remained of David’s face.  Perhaps he was still alive, just barely?  But no, she had checked for a pulse multiple times.  His skin grew colder each time.

By now, Lucy knew after all the death over the past several years, these were just regular processes that dead bodies went through.  Post-death processes masquerading as false remnants of life.  Yet still she watched, waiting.

She heard footsteps approaching, but did not stir. The door swung open.

“Jesus,” said Snake, then held his hand up to his face. “Christ, it reeks.  Down here!” he hollered down the hall.  He approached Lucy cautiously. “Hey, you okay?”

She still stared at David.  Snake reached down cautiously, about to touch her shoulder when she responded.  “Yeah. He’s dead.”

“I can fucking see that.  Good job, he looks dead as fuck.  He, uh-hurt you?”  Snake crouched down next to her but didn’t reach out again.

She shook her head robotically. “Nah.  It was close, though.  He’s dead.”

Snake patted her shoulder, “Yep, I think we’ve established he’s dead as shit.  Won’t turn either, with that number you did on his head.”  He eyed her cautiously.  “You wanna drop that knife now?”

She looked at him confused, and looked down. She still had the knife in her hand, squeezed so tight her knuckles were white.  Her hand opened and the knife clattered to the floor.  Her hand trembled from exhaustion, the muscles exerted beyond their limit.

Negan appeared at the door and halted, observing the scene.  “Fuck me, doll, you gave us quite the fuckin’ scare.”

She blinked a few times, and could practically hear a rebooting sound as a wave of reality finally washed over her.  _Holy shit. That just happened._

She leaned over to the bucket, still stinking of piss and muck, and retched. When she was done, she burst into tears, punctuated by unintelligible words and intelligible swearing.  Snake muttered something about getting a cart for David’s body and swept out of the room.

“Fuckin’ asshole motherfucker,” Negan said, helping Lucy to her feet.  He gave David’s body a swift kick with his boot.  When that didn’t give him the satisfaction he’d hoped for, he kicked it a few more times.  Lucy’s crying tapered off quickly as she watched him.

Negan turned to Lucy, standing in a daze.  “I’m-I’m really fuckin’ sorry.  For everything.”  He seemed to want to say more, but couldn’t find the rest of the words.  Her legs were wobbling as she tried to hold herself together, but every muscle was exhausted.  She was dehydrated, dirty, bloody, and a mess.  He scooped her up easily, and she gave no protest.  _Take me away from this._

He carried her silently, aside from the occasional sniffle, down the hallway to the rarely used freight elevator.  As the doors closed, she looked up and whispered, “I’m sorry, too.”  She closed her eyes and tightened her arm wrapped around his neck.

“Don’t be. You’re safe, now.”

He smelled so good. Safe.  _You’re safe now._

The elevator lurched, slowly creaking onward and upward.  They were both silent, save for the occasional sniffle from Lucy.  He put her down to fumble and get his office keys, then they both walked in.  Lucy stood awkwardly while he opened the double doors into his bedroom.  She hadn’t been in there since their date, but it felt like a safe, sacred space.

“Did he-“ Negan cut himself off, uncomfortable.

“No. I mean-I don’t think so.  I was knocked out for awhile, though.  But I don’t think so.”

“You want the doctor?”

Lucy nodded.  “I want to bathe first.”

“You sure?”

Another nod.

Negan made a noise of protest, but rummaged around a cupboard near his bathroom door, locating some fluffy towels.  He gently led her into the bathroom and began to draw a bath.

“Take a long bath, doll.  Use up all my fuckin’ hot water, every drop.  ’I’ll get you some clean clothes and the doctor sent up.”

Lucy nodded, still in a haze.  Negan gave her a gentle peck on the forehead and a worried look before he shut the door behind him.  Any other day, her stomach would be tumbling in excitement from his display of affection.  All she felt was numb.

The bathroom was certainly not luxurious, built for function and not beauty, but it was spacious and clean.  Some generic décor gave it a bachelor pad vibe without being overly masculine. She looked in the mirror, a strange haggard-looking woman peered back.  Tired, baggy eyes, with dirt and blood and who knows what else smudged on her skin.  She looked at the bathtub, slowly filling up with warm water.

_I have to be clean._

A bath would just involve marinating in the filth that rinsed off of her.  She needed a shower, to watch the filth circle the drain forever away from her.  She yanked the plug out and switched it to a shower, not bothering to check the water temperature.  Negan had left a clean washcloth folded neatly on a little rack in the tub.  Lucy grabbed it and a nearby soap bar that smelled of sandlewood and something vaguely like Negan, and scrubbed hard.  She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was pink and irritated from the washcloth, then scrubbed some more.

When she finished, she wrapped herself in a towel and tossed her dirty clothes in the trashcan.  They were tainted now, and no amount of soap could wash it away.  She patted her hair dry with a second towel, a seemingly ridiculous gesture right now, but she was on auto-pilot, the comfort of familiar routine soothing her back into the world.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Negan nor the doctor was anywhere to be found yet.  Her head ached fiercely, her wrists throbbed.  Pinpricks of blood were forming from her thorough wash.  Even her ribs were still a little sore from that tumble weeks ago.

Life had chewed her up and spat her out, and she was weary.  She felt a little woozy, too, and padded over to Negan’s bed, still wrapped in her towel.

She had just dozed off when Negan and the doctor came in, carrying clothes and bags of medical supplies.  The doctor shooed Negan out, who protested and swore but ultimately retreated into his office.  Drawers slammed loudly for a few moments as a last protest, then silence.

After a thorough examination, Lucy was diagnosed with a minor concussion and given an ointment for the rope burns.  When he examined her for signs of assault, she stared at the ceiling, gripping the sheets in her hands so tight she thought they’d rip off the bed.

After Dr. Cochran left her after some soothing words, she heard a murmur of conversation from the office.

“Did he…you know?” Negan asked.

“No, there appears to be no other trauma besides a concussion and rope burns.  She got banged up in transport, but this is her second concussion in a short span of time.  I’ll be back to check on her – it would be best not to move her yet.”

“Second goddamn time I’ll be waiting on her.  I’m going to cover her with fuckin’ bubble wrap.”

Dr. Cochran sighed. “Why’d you bring her up here, then?  My office is closer. This one wasn’t her fault, and you know it.”

“If I could bring that motherfucker back, I’d kill him again.  Slowly.”

The doctor made some reply that Lucy couldn’t hear.  The rest of the conversation was unintelligible as Lucy drifted off.

She felt a comforting buzz as her sister run her fingers through her hair and rubbed Lucy’s back, just like when she was little and didn’t feel well.  But her sister was dead probably, so it was just a dream.  She barely stirred as a prickly chin tickled her cheek, some soft words of comfort whispered.

Sleep was a welcome friend, for once.

 

/ / / /

Two figures hovered over a crib, a small, sickly baby slept inside.  He had been born too early, but he survived.  His tiny lungs had fought tooth and nail for his first breath, and every breath after was a struggle.  But still, he survived.

“How is it progressing?” Mr. Typhon asked the caretaker, a stout wall of a woman.  She had been slated for termination, deemed infertile by Typhon’s doctors, but they argued passionately that her previous medical experience as a doula made her valuable.  She stayed on, although he never cared to learn her name.  It didn’t matter, anyways.

“He progresses, but is still weak for six months,” she stated.  “He does not thrive, but he grows a little stronger each day,” she lied.  The little boy did not grow stronger, but she told the truth that he did not thrive.  But he lived, and continued to, so she was safe for now.  Typhon did not like being lied to, but his rage at inconvenient information often caused the very outcome he despised.  “He would do better with his mother, I think.”

“Then you would no longer have work, rendering you useless to me.”   _Out of the question._ The mother would have no influence over any child of his.  His influence, and his influence only.  The future rested on his shoulders, a burden only he could carry.

“I only say recommendations, your judgement is final in the end,” the caretaker said.  She had lasted this long through careful navigation and a clear head, not blinded by fear like the others in this cultish prison.  _Someday…_ she thought.  _Someday…_

Mr. Typhon regarded the infant with a scrutinizing eye for a moment longer, then turned to leave without a word.

The caretaker looked tenderly at the little life she had raised for half a year, each day a struggle, with near-maternal fondness.  A precious miracle in a bleak world.  She sometimes wondered if sweet words and a pillow over his sweet, innocent face would be more merciful then the future he would have with his twisted father.

She remained undecided, a choice for another day.  A heartbreak for another day.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Dreamless sleep.  It was glorious, no subconscious rooting around in darkness to fling hidden pains at Lucy.  Instead, she slept long and hard.

Waking was sudden- a clap of thunder and BOOM- she started awake with a jerk.

Dark room, strange bed- where the hell was she?  After blinking away the sleep, suddenly everything came back, hazy and foggy, but there.  Negan’s room, silken sheets.  Lucy rubbed her eyes, propped herself up on her elbows and looked around.  The lights were off, but some light peeked through the window blinds.  She’d been here before, the dinner date night, but it was still unfamiliar.  Foreign.  She was an intruder in someone else’s space… isn’t that really what she had been these past few weeks?

_Run.  Run away._

A note on the bedside table instructed her to stay in bed, rest up, called her gorgeous.  Negan’s words, Negan’s writing.  She suddenly couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing him.   _What is happening to me?_

She was also in someone else’s pajamas, or maybe they were hers now.  A nice cotton set, but stiff,

fresh from the shelf.  There was a set of clothes on a nearby dressed, neatly folded.  God, her wrists were sore.  Getting out of bed was easier said than done, the past now catching up to her and festering in her muscles and joints.  Her head spun and she had to sit on the bed to collect herself before moving again.  Before changing, she glanced around the room one more time, as if a person might suddenly appear from a dark corner, someone overlooked or hidden in the shadows.  She was alone, but she changed as quickly as she could.  After a few moments of hunting for a pen, she hastily scribbled on the backside of the note, made the bed, and placed the note over the bedspread.

Negan’s office was also empty, and the hallways past.  It was midmorning, so most people were off doing their jobs and running their errands and living their lives.  Easier to slip away when there was no one to answer to.  She found her way to the storage closet and located the old sleeping bag and a few other items, and quickly grabbed them.  Then, she made her way to the stairwell, but stopped short.  She had been planning on going down, going to the workshop and keeping busy, but something pulled her to the roof.  She had to see the world from up high, it was easier to think up there.

The air was clear and clean.  Lucy rolled the sleeping bag out over some discarded cardboard and laid on top of it.  Her head still throbbed a bit, and she felt a little dizzy.  But when she looked at the sky, everything melted away.  The past, the present, the future.  Even time seemed to have no meaning as she stared into the blue, and the blue stared back, enveloping her.  She let her thoughts go, waving at them as they passed by and disappeared.  The voice would sometimes crawl up, trying to urge her to jump off the building, escape, run away.  It was all words anyways.  Words meant nothing, in the end.  Just air, blowing in the wind.

People chattered, hammers banged away, it was all background noise.  Lucy didn’t know if she fell asleep or put herself in a deep state of peace, but she suddenly became aware of her stiff back, tired of the gravel underneath the thin cardboard.  Judging by the sun’s position, it had been a few hours.

The respite left her feeling recharged a bit, able to handle the present now.  The Order.  Negan.  Her own demons- all in due time.  She rolled up her sleeping bag, moving slowly to avoid any wooziness.

A distant explosion followed by a dull rumble cut through the air, followed by a few seconds of silence.

_The sewer entrance!_  She vaguely recalled telling someone about the basement entry point– was it Negan, or the doctor?  Negan had the entry point half a mile away rigged with explosives when they found it, so they would be alerted when someone attempted to enter.  The tunnels below were labyrinthian, but there were some trigger traps and blockades to slow down any intruders.

Gunfire punctuated the air, and the Saviors began to shout orders as they got into position around the perimeter fence and rounded up residents into Sanctuary.

The Order was attacking!

 

/ / / / /

The Sanctuary kitchen was busy, as always.  Feeding a large amount of people required prep work, cleaning work, and it seemed like Red Meg, the head of the kitchen, never had enough staff.  She’d boil with irritation watching some of the Saviors smoking cigarettes idly outside while her staff busted their asses feeding those sorry sons-of…  But, she’d never voice that complaint out loud, she knew better.  Instead, she’d been working on The Accountant, swallowing her pride to bring him little cakes and treats to entice him to recommend more staff for her to the Big Boss, the enigma she rarely saw with how busy she was.  Until today.

Her workers scurried from counter to counter, nervously eyeing the dark presence loitering in the back corner. Negan absentmindedly tapped Lucille on the wall behind him, watching his little worker bees with a smug satisfaction.   _Buzz, buzz, buzz, little drones._

Red Meg finally puffed over with a tray of food and allowed Negan to look over it with a careful eye.

“Is this to your liking, sir?”  she managed to choke out, hoping it sounded nicer than she meant it.

He leaned over and inspected the plate, heaping with tastefully arranged food.  “Beautiful fuckin’ job.  Looks fantastic, Chef.”  He replaced the silver lid carefully and took the tray from the red-cheeked chef.

“Meg, isn’t it?”

The woman looked slightly startled but straightened her back and nodded.  “Yes, sir.  I’m the head of your kitchen.”

“And you’re doing a goddamn bang-up job, if I may say so myself.  My people are well-fed with the shit we manage to throw your way.”

Red Meg’s lips twitched, then settled into a satisfied smile.  “Thank you, sir.”  _And I turn that shit into gold,_ she thought.  Negan cocked his head, and she panicked for a moment.  Did she say that out loud?

“How are you doing down here?  I gotta fuckin’ confess, I delegate a lot of shit now.”

The chef shifted uncomfortably.  “We are well set…for the most part.  You’ve been…generous with what you’ve given us.”

Negan carefully set the tray down and stepped closer towards Red Meg.  She wanted to take a step backwards, he was in too close, but she knew better.

“Now, now, darlin’.  Don’t tell me the shit I want to hear, tell me the shit I _need_ to hear.”  He smiled and the chef searched his eyes.  Though he made her uncomfortable, she didn’t find any malice lurking there.

She jerked her head towards a quieter corner and he followed her there.  “Well, sir, we are set with a lot of basic provisions, and spices.  But we struggle with things like fruit and veggies – even more of the canned stuff would do.  Fresh would be better – our gardens are pitiful for the amount of people we have, I’m sorry to say.  We rarely have enough for dishes and never any leftover to can.  At some point the canned shit will go rancid.”  She took a deep breath and watched him carefully.  He simply nodded for her to continue.

“We need salt.  It’s used in canning and preserving meat, but also needed to survive.  It provides sodium needed for circulation, and we will run out of the supplies eventually.  In the olden times, salt was mined and foraged – we will need to look into that before too long.  Library books might have more information about that.”

“What else?”

“I need more staff too, at least five more.  My workers are run ragged, and exhaustion leads to mistakes.  My lead chef sliced the tip off his finger after working fifteen-hour days practically nonstop, and now he’s on forced bedrest.  We need relief- it’s not glamourous work, but a few of the kids have expressed interest in helping after their lessons.”

Negan nodded slowly, considering her words.  It had been a long time since he’d circulated amongst the people that worked for him and listened to their grievances.  In fact, maybe this was the first time he’d actually listened to their grievances directly, instead of filtering it through his men where urgencies were softened and the reasonings became muddled.  He thought distance might add to the intimidation factor, keep the people scared and in line.  But did it actually cause more problems?

“Thank you for your fuckin’ honesty.  I’ll have a word with The Accountant, and set up a standing meeting so that we can figure shit out better going forward.”

He turned to the rest of the kitchen staff, who eyed him nervously as they rattled around.

“Alright Kitchen, I’ll give you a clear for today.  But don’t fuck up, or I’ll be back down here soon!”

Negan gave his chef a wicked smile and wordlessly slipped out of the kitchen with the silver tray, chuckling at the audible collective sigh from the staff.

Lucy would probably be hungry by now if she was up, and if she wasn’t, he wanted to wake her with a tray of some fucking good food.  Mend fences and whatnot, let her see there was still some good in him.  That disappointed look on her face flashed in his memory randomly, causing his stomach to turn.  He needed to erase it, to replace it with a look he could be proud of.  He forced himself to whistle pleasantly as he made his way back up to the office, smiling and waving at random workers, most of whom seemed startled and suspicious at Negan’s friendly mood.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you try to be nice around here…”  He muttered as a pimply-faced youth nearly fell face-forward trying to get out of Negan’s line-of-sight.  Once he approached the office, he carefully shifted the tray to quietly open the door and slip in as to not disturb his guest.

Instead, he found the adjoining door wide open, his bed empty.

“Shit!”  He slammed the tray down on the coffee table and stormed in.   _You leave one simple fucking instruction and the girl fucking bails._  The clean clothes were gone- why did he leave those?  She would have stayed put, probably, hopefully, if she was instead banished to pajamas.   _You’re a stupid fuckin’ idiot,_ he thought, flipping the lights on.

A note was on the bed, scribbled on the back of his own note that he’d left for her.

_I’m okay, just need some space and fresh air. I’ll be back later, don’t worry._

_-L_

Negan sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.  Wasn’t everything better after yesterday?  He’d said sorry, she said sorry.  It had been a traumatic experience – did she need space to process that, or from him?  Or both?  Christ, that broad was a lot more hassle than she seemed.  And yet…

Before he could contemplate further, he heard a faint booming sound.  

“What the fuck?”  He leapt up and grabbed Lucille, storming out into the hallway.  Turning around a corner, he nearly collided into Dwight and Snake.  Without words, just from the look on their faces Negan knew.

The Order was attacking Sanctuary.  Negan’s home, Negan’s territory.   _My house._

“Those creepy-ass sons of bitches!”  Negan shouted, his voice reverberating down the hallway.

“Dwight, get someone to get the fuckin’ prisoner and  get him locked the fuck up.  He’s a fuckin’ liability now.  Snake, you get some fuckin’ men and crowbars to that room in the basement with the sewer entrance.  Half go down and half stay in that room and watch that fucking’ manhole.   _Do not let any of those motherfuckers up alive.”_

A collective “Yes, sir!”  and his lead men dispersed.

_BOOM._

Metal rattled in the stairwell, and the windows rattled.  This time closer- the cultists had made it through to the second set of explosives.  Negan hoped that had taken out enough of them, he had no idea what their numbers were.  They were so unprepared, he’d hoped they would have a few more days to prepare.   But fucking David and his rapist ass threw a serious hitch in their prep plans.  Lucky that Lucy killed that motherfucker, otherwise Negan would have him strung up in a cell devising some sort of excruciating torture.  He heard some gunfire from outside and sprinted down the rest of the stairs.

_And where the hell is Lucy?_

Bursting through the front doors, he heard the intermittent gunfire continue but it didn’t seem like the cultists had breached Sanctuary yet.  A handful of Saviors ran over with Arat leading them.  She ordered the group behind some cover before updating Negan.

“Sir, we’re holding up okay so far.  Some men have been sent to the sewer entrance, take out any sentries there and hopefully catch up behind any of them and take them out.  Thank God we beefed up the weak points.  There seems to be small groups of them all around us, testing those spots.”  She sighed and adjusted the strap of her rifle. “They knew.  They fucking knew our weak points.  They’ve probably been planning this for _weeks_.”

Negan scowled as a nearby Savior rummaged through a duffle bag of guns.  He carefully handed them over one-by-one for Negan to inspect.  He settled on a rapid-fire rifle.  “The entry points were welded the fuck shut, under the cover of some old military tents so that the fuckin’ spies couldn’t see. Dr. Smartypants’ brilliant idea- if we pull this shit off, he is officially off my shit-list.”

Arat nodded.

“The entry points rigged with explosives, should they get too fuckin’ close, but tell your team to keep a healthy fuckin’ distance if they get triggered.  Arat, stay with me.”  He turned to Arat’s team.  “Residents.  I gather they are all inside, so go in there and distribute weapons to the able-bodied and for fuck’s sake, _fuckin’ track who gets what._  We’ll collect ‘em back later, but I want them to be able to fuckin’ defend themselves should we get breached.”  The group nodded and dashed inside the safety of the factory, away from the chaos outside.

Negan turned to Arat.  Intermittent gunfire punctuated the air with an occasional window shattering or cry of pain heard as a shot hit its target.

“I think this is a test,” Arat said in a low voice.  “I think they’re spooking us, or testing our defenses. Possibly weakening us for a more robust attack.”

“Or a fuckin’ diversion.  Why use the sewers?  They had no idea if we knew about them or not, they potentially gave away one of their fuckin’ wild cards.”

Arat shrugged.  “Maybe they don’t need the sewers, sir.  Maybe it’s just a red herring, I don’t know.  But this doesn’t feel like a full-force attack.”  She gestured around the yard.  “It’s broad daylight!  They are attacking in little groups – it’s ineffective.  Not characteristic of what we’ve seen so far.”

Negan nodded, rolling her opinions over in his head. He had been thinking the same thing, this felt a little too sloppy, a little too disorganized based on what they’d experienced so far with The Order. Something wasn’t right- but was this an attack of desperation, hence the disjointedness, or was this purposeful?  They could use one to their advantage.

_Shit._

He turned to Arat. “Get Kevin and have him radio the other fuckin’ settlements.  Hilltop, Alexandria, The Kingdom first.  Little settlements later, if he can.  Check on them all, see if anyone else is under attack.  This might be a diversion to keep us busy, or to weaken us so we can’t provide support. Something ain’t right.”

_And where the fuck was Lucy?_

He made his way carefully to through the yard, staying close to the factory walls for cover.  His men patrolled the walls, alert and occasionally firing. 

Negan patrolled the yard alone, suddenly feeling vulnerable without any Saviors around.  He found residents cowering behind trucks and cement barriers, caught off-guard by the sudden attack.  “C’mon,” he gestured to them and rounded up the ones he found, escorting them to safety beyond the factory doors.  Lucy wasn’t among them.  Was she in the workshop?

_Stupid fucking idea to send your fucking people on errands while you twiddle your fuckin’ thumbs and play bodyguard to the masses._

He found the workshop empty.  A stray bullet had _pinged_ against the solid metal door as he made his way in, but he was otherwise unscathed.  Eugene, however, was cowering in a corner, face wet from tears and sweat.  Negan rolled his eyes and hauled him up to his feet.

“Eugene, get the fuck up and get to the factory.”

Eugene shook his head and wiped his nose.  “I’m afraid not, sir.  I cannot leave our projects here vulnerable to the eyes of the Order and to their destruction.”

Negan didn’t have time for this.  “I can’t fuckin’ lose you, and you can’t defend this place yourself.”

Eugene straightened up.  “With all due respect, sir, I can rig this workshop to my advantage.”

“Were you going to do that before or after I came in here to see you pissing your pants?”

“I admit, I was working up the courage to do so, sir.”

Negan sighed.  “Can you fire a fuckin’ gun?”

Eugene stared back with a blank look on his face.  Negan sighed, and pulled a handgun out that was tucked into his jeans.  “I’m leaving this here with you.  I take no fuckin’ responsibility if you blow your own hand off, got it?  Here’s the safety, make sure it’s fuckin’ off before you kill somebody.  And please don’t kill any of our people or any of my fuckin’ men.”

Eugene nodded, but said nothing.

As he left through a side door on the workshop, a rapid succession of gunfire erupted from the rooftop.  It remained slow and steady, shots ringing out and echoing back. The Saviors on the walls began whooping and shaking clenched fists to the roof, before quickly turning back to returning fire.  Negan glanced curiously to the rooftop, and saw a handful of gun barrels poking over the roof.  _I didn’t order any men to sniper the rooftop – was that Dwight?_   If so, he’d thank the man later.

Negan made his way to the factory and slipped in, boasting and reassuring residents that hadn’t hidden away in their rooms yet that the Saviors were kickin’ ass out there.  It didn’t seem to provide much relief to worried and scared faces, but he didn’t know what else to say.   _What the fuck is happening on the roof?_  Did Arat send men up there, maybe Snake?

He huffed and puffed up the stairs, adrenaline helping move him along, but only so much.  When he got to the roof, he found the door blocked.  He banged on it with the butt of his gun until something shifted.

“Hey numbnuts, why the fuck is the door-“  He stopped as he faced Lucy, red-faced from shifting a large cement block.

“Hiya,”  she said smiling.  “Welcome to the Sniper’s Nest.”

Negan looked around.  Seven- no, eight- of the men and women of Sanctuary were perched equidistant along the rooftop with various sniper rifles.  Lucy was running back and forth, decked out in a Kevlar vest, placing the appropriate bullet boxes by the snipers and scanning the perimeter with binoculars.   She was fierce and beautiful in Negan’s eyes, and he wanted to scoop her up right then and there.

“Hit,” one of the snipers called.  The others muttered agreeably in return.

“West seems clear, they didn’t seem to want to mess with our brand-new fence, that someone so thoughtfully repaired” Lucy said with a grin.  “Mike, how about you go to the Southeastern corner with Terry, that’s where the guys on the fence are getting hit hardest.”  Mike (whoever the fuck that was, Negan vaguely recognized his face as he passed by) muttered something in agreement and gathered his things, filling in a gap next to another sniper.

“Hit,” another called out.

Negan made his way to Lucy.  “What’s the goddamn status here, General?”  Lucy pulled him over to the edge, and crouched down.  Negan took the binoculars from her, trying not to wince as his knee clicked meeting her stance.  Close up, her eyes were bright and clear, her cheeks tinged pink with excitement.  She seemed almost… in her element.

“There’s clusters, although they seem to be less organized now.  West is clear, but there’s groups on all other sides.” Lucy pointed and Negan followed with binoculars.  “It seemed disorganized and scattered at first, but they are moving pretty smart.  I think it was a tactic to appear chaotic and catch us off guard.”

The main gate seemed to have the most activity, but Lucy had beefed up that side and they seemed to have the cultist group pinned down.  They weren’t able to shoot as freely as the Saviors at the gate- every shot had to count since the ammo for the sniper rifles were harder to come by, and supplies were low.  The men and women on the roof were decent shots, but this wasn’t a fight between armies, in the end.  It was fight between people: farmers, laborers, drinkers, and cooks were armed to the teeth and hoping they hit their target.  A fair amount had military or hunting experience and it showed- he wondered how Lucy had been able to gather the decent shots on the roof in a short amount of time.

“Hit.”  This time two women called out in unison, on opposite sides of the roof.  After a brief whoop of appreciation, concentration returned to the task at hand.

“Your men are better trained though, but we don’t know if this is their B-team.  It feels weird,” Lucy said.  A bullet ricocheted off the building a few feet beneath where they crouched, spraying brick and dust around. She glanced around carefully, measuring the horizon.

Negan watched as a cultist’s head exploded in a red mist, and chuckled. “It isn’t a full fuckin’ scale attack.  It’s a test or some shit. Somethin’ ain’t fuckin’ right.”

Lucy nodded in agreement.  The battle continued, seemingly in a deadlock.  Negan’s knee had begun to scream for mercy when hollering at the east side brought their attention to the Saviors in that area.

“Incoming cars!” Mark hollered.   “Should we open fire?”  Negan scanned the cars, they didn’t look like the cars at the maze, no symbols spray-painted on the side.  Instead, they were a hodgepodge of various vehicles, a fleet of about ten or so.

“Hold your fuckin’ fire,” Negan called.  Was it Saviors from the outposts?  He didn’t recognize the vehicles, though.  The fleet moved together, then formed a barrier some distance away from some pinned cultists.  Negan estimated about eight to nine cultists remained on that side, but it was difficult to see them all.

Everyone on the rooftop held their breath as they watched the car doors fling open on the side opposite of the cultists.  The mysterious group began to open fire, easily downing the rest of the cultists.  As the fleet loaded back up to make their way to the next side of Sanctuary, Negan caught sight of a familiar face. He couldn’t help but laugh.

It was Rick fucking Grimes, now the savior of the Saviors.

 

**/ / / / /**

**AN:  Thank you all for your patience as the last few weeks have been hectic with some major life events (graduations, weddings, etc!).  Things have calmed down for now, and I hope you enjoy the latest chapter :)**

**Take care lovelies! Xoxoxoxo**


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Lucy watched Negan laughing and half-wondered if he’d had lost his damn mind, until she realized she vaguely recognized some of their rescuers.  They easily took out the rest of the cultists, moving from cover to cover and cornering the cultists where they were easily dispatched.  It was like lionesses hunting antelope: each person knew what their purpose was and executed it to perfection.  There was a beauty in the slaughter.  Negan broke her trance by nudging her with his elbow and nodded towards the stairs.

“Let’s go, doll.  Let’s see if our neighbors came to borrow a cup of sugar.”

Lucy snorted and followed his looming frame through the stairwell door.  “Those neighbors just saved us a whole lotta trouble.  _Play nice.”_

Negan turned around, and placed his hand on his chest as if shocked by her statement.  “I am always nice!”  The stairwell door slammed shut, leaving them with Lucy’s lone flashlight.  “Hey,” he growled.  “You know what’d be nice?”

“I bet I can hazard a guess- but get your ass downstairs.”  Lucy’s cheeks flushed and she gave him a playful shove towards the stairs.  Even during a tense battle, he could still make her knees weak.

Negan sighed dramatically and they dashed down the stairs, huffing and puffing.  Exhaustion was setting in from the excitement of the day but both tried to ignore it.

No one had a clue yet what was going on in the sewers, and likely wouldn’t for some time.  Lucy hadn’t heard a third and final explosion that indicated the Order was in the tunnels under Sanctuary, but that could really mean anything at this point.  Did they figure out how disarm the bombs, or had they all been taken out by the second one?  A dud was also likely, although Lucy had faith in Eugene’s rigging skills.

Negan seemed to read her thoughts as they clamored down the stairs.  “Dunno how many fuckers are down in the tunnels, but I sent some men to watch the basement and some on point in the sewers.”   _Gasp, gasp._ “Fuck’s sake.  If I have to take these fuckin’ stairs one more goddamn time today-“

Lucy laughed as they hit the last landing. “Come on old man!”

“I already took them several fuckin’ times today.  One of them, I might fuckin’ add, was to bring you a goddamn literal silver tray of delicious goddamn food-“

Lucy stopped in front of him, blocking him from the stairwell exit.  She looked up at him, searching his face.  Intense eyes meeting ferocious ones, although whose was which was arguable at this point.  Before he said anything snarky, she yanked him towards her, kissing deeply.  She heard a clatter as Lucille tumbled to the ground, forgotten in the passionate embrace.  Lucy’s flashlight soon followed, scattering light wildly along the stairwell landing before pointing at a wall.  His fingers dug deep into her hair, entwined and pulling her closer, if that was even possible.

Lucy snaked her hands around his neck, kissing harder and more fervently than before.  The tension between them had been practically unbearable, with very little release.  Negan moaned and pushed her against the concrete wall of the stairway, occasionally catching his breath while she peppered kisses along his beard, neck, cheeks, anywhere she could reach.  She felt him grow hard through his pants, pressing against her lower belly and she didn’t know how much longer she could resist him.  It had been weeks of torture, weeks of teasing.  His teasing grin, that lip bite… even when he was angry or tired or… she just wanted him.

“Goddamn, Lucy,” was all he could sputter out before she pulled him close again, kissing deeply.  She throbbed, ached for him, and felt wetness gathering below.  Negan’s hands drifted down her body, tracing her curves, down her thighs, then slowly back upwards in between her legs.  Lucy let a small moan escape, which sent Negan further into a fury of passion.  The flashlight was abandoned on the floor facing away from them, so they only had darkness, really, just their senses of touch and smell and...

A sputtering of distant gunfire finally rocked them out of their feverous trance.  They both turned their heads simultaneously, listening cautiously for a moment in their tight embrace.  Lucy didn’t know if she felt his heart pounding or hers, but she finally placed her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

“It’s never the right time…” she said sadly.

Negan leaned his chin on the top of her head and stoked her hair.  “It will be.  Shit’s just fucked right now.”  He tilted her head up towards him.  “It will be soon, I promise.”

Lucy smiled a little, although he couldn’t see it in the near-blackness.

_Not now, focus on the problems at hand._

She kissed him, this time a gentle parting kiss, before pulling away and locating the flashlight.  His eyes were dark and dangerous, hunger and lust swirling as he tried to compose himself.  Before he could say anything to ruin the moment (or cause her to abandon any self-control she had left), she dusted his jacket off and adjusted his bandana.

“Can’t have you looking disheveled when you thank our rescuers,” she said with a small grin.

“Oh fuck me, I gotta thank those pricks?”  He groaned and rubbed his forehead.  “All I can fuckin’ think about is-“  He cocked an eyebrow and gestured towards Lucy.  “Well, fuckin’ you to be perfectly honest.”

She leaned up and gave him a quick peck on his cheek.  “Come on, we gotta go.  We have more pressing problems right now.”

“I’ve got a fuckin’ _pressing problem_ in my goddamn pants right now.”

Lucy giggled and dashed down the last landing of stairs.  Negan sighed dramatically and followed behind as Lucy pushed opened the stairwell door.  She handed him the flashlight and put her hand on his chest to prevent him from following.

“Well, come out when you’re ready, it will look better anyways if you arrive later,” she said.  Negan made a strangled groan sound in reply and leaned his head against the concrete wall inside the stairwell.

“That’s a good fuckin’ idea, goddammit,” he muttered irritably.

The Alexandrians were gathered in the yard by the time she dashed outside.  The air smelled of blood and a sharp tinge of gunpowder.  Blood splatters were plentiful, although the yard seemed to be fairly undisturbed.  A mild tension between them and the Saviors was palpable, scowls were plentiful amongst each side.  The front gates were open but heavily guarded as Saviors filtered in and out to kill any turned cultists and drag in any foreign bodies in a pile to be burned.  Lucy saw with relief there were no Savior bodies.  Only a handful of them were injured and sat on a bench nearby, tended to by Dr. Carson.

Eugene and Rick appeared to be talking amicably, and Dwight hovered nearby with uncertainty. They all glanced over at her as she approached, then continued their conversation when they realized Negan wasn’t in tow.

“Any casualties?” she asked immediately.

Dwight nodded and her heart sank a little.  “Two of ours, but not bad considering.  Only a few minor injuries.”

She turned to Rick.  He looked tired, but alert – always glancing this way and that, prepared for a trap.  She didn’t have any words to soothe him, his suspicions would likely be hard to tame after his tempestuous history with the Saviors.  “Negan’s on his way.  Thank you for arriving- and timely too.  How did you know we were being attacked?  Do your people require any medical attention?”

Rick adjusted his gun strap and licked his lips carefully, and Lucy felt an unease as she felt herself measured against whatever standards Rick seemed to employ.  He appeared a little surprised at her concern, weighing this strange woman in his mind.  “No, my people are good, thanks.  Nothing we can’t handle.  We didn’t know about the attack until we were nearly here.  Heard a call on the radio asking if any other settlements were under attack.  Where’s Daryl?”

Lucy froze and glanced over at Dwight, who seemed more interested in looking anywhere but at her.  “Wait, you were already on your way?  Why?”

Rick glanced around, searching the yard.  “If you don’t know already, I’m not sure if you’re supposed to…”

“Because I fuckin’ asked him to,” came a booming voice behind them.  Negan swaggered over with a huge smile, Lucille recovered from her abandonment in the staircase and slung over his shoulder as usual.  He winked at Lucy and threw an arm around Rick, who appeared less than thrilled at this display of affection.

“You’re a real fuckin’ stand-up guy, Rick.  True to your fuckin’ word.  Daryl’s lurking around here somewhere, we’ll find him.  Or he’ll show up, more fuckin’ likely.  Gotta put a fuckin’ bell on him, someday.”

He eyed the Alexandrians up and down, his face darkening.  “And where the FUCK did you get all them guns?  I recall emptying out your fuckin’ badass armory.  Be honest, or I’ll be fuckin’ pissed.”

Rick scowled and shrugged Negan’s arm off.  “We’ve been scavenging for them the past week, but low on ammo.  We had to make every shot count and we’ll need more for...the future.”  He glanced at Lucy, then cocked an eyebrow at Negan.

“Speak fuckin’ freely, chief.  She was going to fuckin’ find out later today, anyways.”

 Rick nodded.  “Hilltop will be ready later today at our recon point, and the Kingdom tomorrow morning.  After I got the call that you were under attack, I radioed them to meet us at the rendez-vous point a little earlier than planned.”

“Why? What rendez-vous point?  What the hell is going on?” Lucy asked, looking around the group.  Luckily, at least Eugene seemed to look as lost as her.  Rick glanced over at Negan, who had a huge grin plastered on his face.

“Before these fuckers decided to attack us today, I already set wheels in motion.”

Negan strode over to the front gate, looking around at the carnage outside of the gate.  A few cultists-turned-walkers crawled towards them, snapping and snarling until their heads were bashed in by nearby Saviors.

He turned around to the little group.  “We’re going to attack The Order’s base tomorrow night.  They won’t expect it so soon, they’ll think we are still recovering, licking our fuckin’ wounds.  Their timing- while inconvenient as shit- I believe works out to our advantage, in the end.”

A holler from further down the fence outside the perimeter caused them all to look over.  Kevin was jogging towards them waving something in his hand.  When he got closer, he shoved something in Negan’s hand.

“Heya boss. They got a fuckin’-uh, walkie.  Someone’s been squawking through, but I didn’t know what to do yet.” He turned to the rest of the group with a crooked smile.  “Hi Lucy, Dwight.  Hi Rick, how’s it going?  Thanks for uh, showing up.  Real class act.  You need any-“

“Kevin, shut the fuck up.” Negan barked.  As they stood there considering what to do, a voice crackled through.

“ _Alpha team, come in.  Please confirm.  What is your status?  Zzzkkk.  Repeat.  What is your status?”_

Negan laughed and handed the walkie to Kevin.  “Listen up, Limp Dick.  _Don’t fuck this up_.  Make some fuckin’ static sounds, and tell ‘em that you’re injured but have us surrounded.  Sound like you’re fuckin’ hurt so they don’t notice the goddamn difference of whoever the fuck is supposed to have that walkie.”

Kevin gulped.  He took a deep breath to call into the walkie when Negan suddenly reached over and socked him in the nose.

“FUG!  Why’d you do thab?”  Kevin grasped his now freely bleeding nose.  His voice sounded nasally and clogged now, and difficult to distinguish over the poor quality of the walkie-talkies.

“Sorry there, Kev.  On second fuckin’ thought, it would be more believable if you are actually fuckin’ injured.”  The voice crackled through the walkie again, inquiring about the status.  Negan put his hand on Kevin’s shoulder and looked him square-on.  “Listen, you don’t fuck this up and I won’t fuckin’ call you Limp Dick on purpose ever again.  Deal?”

Kevin’s eyes widened.  A realization dawn on him that now had leverage.  Despite his bleeding nose, he pushed back to sweeten the deal.  “And I wand access to da poger games, whenever I feel lige playing.”

Negan’s eyes narrowed, boring into Kevin like lasers.  The poker games were usually attended by Negan’s inner circle, or Saviors that had distinguished themselves.  Kevin, despite his eagerness, was not considered inner circle quite yet, having almost as many fuck-ups as he did triumphs. 

Kevin held his ground against Negan’s intensity, tilting his chin up and staring back.  After a moment, Negan broke into a grin and slapped him on the back.  “Fuckin’ deal.”

Kevin nodded and they shook hands quickly before he spoke into the walkie talkie.  “Status reporb- Saviors pinned down ad Sanduary.”  They all waited with baited breath, clustered around the walkie.

_“Greg? Is that you?  What the hell is wrong with you?”_

“God injured, but I’b okay.  A few Saviors dead, we have theb trabbed for now.  Expect they won’t last another day or two.”

“ _Confirmed, keep radio on and update hourly.  Over and out.”_

“Gob it.  Over and out.”

They all let out a collective sigh of relief and stepped back from the walkie.  Rick turned to Negan.  “You think they bought it?”

“They fuckin’ better have.  We’d better count on them not though, who knows what the fuck else they have planned.  C’mon.  My office.”

 

/ / / / /

 

Ten minutes later, Negan was handing out drinks to his guests.  Well, except Carl, despite Negan repeatedly trying to hand him a glass of whiskey.  The black chick with dreads kept making disapproving sounds until Rick finally stepped in to firmly deny the kid a glass.  Christ, it was barely a shot’s worth, and the kid fucking deserved it after coming along, in Negan’s eyes.

Negan walked over to the map behind his desk and pulled out different colored pushpins.  He looked around at his crew, now a healthy mix of Saviors and Alexandrians.  This inner circle would help him take out the Order once and for all, but it required everyone to be on board.

_A good leader recognizes the strengths of his followers,_ he thought.  Better learn some of their names, too.

Eugene hovered in the back, unsure of where to sit.  Negan let him stew in uncertainty, he had to grow some balls some time, after all.  Arat and Dwight sat by Negan’s desk, comfortable in their closeness to the dictator.  The dread-chick…that’s right, _Michonne_ was her fucking name!  She stood with Rick near the door, as if they might bolt at any moment.  Carl was sitting comfortably in one of the chairs, nonplussed by anything.  Negan felt a little glimmer of pride despite having little to do with Carl’s brass balls, he liked the kid and couldn’t help it.  Lucy stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed expectantly.  Daryl stood in the back, glowering as per usual.

Negan felt a swell of pride as he looked around the room.  They could do this.  He’d seen all of them in the heat of battle, and they’d all survived and taken down their fair share of bodies.  Well, except Eugene, but he was useful in his own way, and Lucy hadn’t been directly involved in much fighting, but she had held her own so far.  A damn fine crew, but he wouldn’t admit it to them.

Negan leaned against the map and met Rick’s eyes.  “Alright, Rick.  You’ve gotten a breakdown from Daryl about this place.  I may not fuckin’ like it, but you are good at this shit.  Infiltration, planning, that kind of shit.”  He winced as he spoke, not sure if it was admitting to Rick specifically that was painful, or just general ego damage.

_This is going to hurt._ “So, what do you think?  Plan of attack-wise?”

Everyone looked towards Rick, who stared back blankly, clearly caught off-guard.  If he was expecting anything from this meeting, it was that Negan would be telling them what to do- not asking.  What the hell had changed?  Were they that fucked, or did that pretty young woman soften up the tyrant?

He cleared his throat, recovering from the unexpected collaboration.  “Well, I think we’ve established at least one weak point – the collapsed building.  That’ll provide cover and a likely entrypoint.  The fields surrounding the base may be problematic, there may be landmines there, but we don’t know for sure.  That makes the only road a viable entrance, but it’s heavily guarded.”

“What if we find out for sure?” Lucy interjected.

Rick turned to her.  “Find out what?”

“Find out about the landmines.  We don’t want to cross over the field ourselves, it might blow us to kingdom come.  But what about walkers?  We could get them to cross for us, follow behind.”

Rick nodded slowly.  “That might work- but we’d need a lot of walkers.  And how would we lead them to the base without someone in front of them?”

Lucy smiled.  “I think Eugene and I got that handled.”

Eugene nodded, a small smile growing as he followed her plan. “Yes, I do believe I know where you are going, Lucy.  But there’s the question of whether we want the undead’s attentions divided or concentrated.”

The group debated for a few minutes on the merits of having walkers from multiple angles, or slamming one side.  Lucy looked to Daryl.  “What is their fencing like?”

Daryl shrugged.  “Ain’t great.  Ain’t shit.  Just standard fencing I guess.  Razor wire at the top.”

“Did you see any reinforcements or anything?  Did it appear sagging anywhere?”

Daryl nodded.  “Yeah, there were a few spots on th’ east and north side that looked weak.  No reinforcements as far as I could tell.”

Carl piped up.  “What about armoring up the walkers?  They’d last longer too.  We don’t have to use our good Kevlar, we can tie ‘em up with pots and pans or something.”

Rick laughed.  Negan thought it was actually the first time he’d seen Rick smile, let alone laugh.  Negan pointed at Carl.  “Kid!  That is a fuckin’ badass idea.  Who is writing this shit down?”

Everyone looked around, and finally Lucy sighed and walked over to the desk, nudging Negan over.  She sat in his chair and located a paper and pen and began furiously scribbling lists.   _She looks good behind your desk,_ he thought.  _Hell, she’d look good on top of it-_ but before he finished that thought, more ideas began to flow.  They began planning furiously, bouncing ideas off one another, letting some die and some flourish.  Negan would step in sometimes, about to protest or interject, but Lucy would place a gentle hand on his arm.

_Let them work it out,_ that gentle hand seemed to say.  It would shut him up for a spell, enough for the idea to develop or perish.  He found they didn’t seem to need him for planning, but would look to him for a final call.

Hours passed.  Lucy was surrounded by a flurry of papers filled with notes.  The group had moved all the chairs into a circle for better discussion, and empty glasses and plates scattered the table.  Occasionally a Savior would pop their head in to update Negan on the clean-up efforts, or Kevin’s progress on the walkie-talkie.  The final discussion had finally settled on Carl’s role in the attack, and the camp seemed firmly divided.

 “I’ll help Michonne’s team,” Carl said.

Rick looked over at him, about to protest.  Before he said anything, Carl shook his head at his father and continued.  “I’m going to help, Dad.  I’m not going to just sit around while you risk your lives.  I need to.”  Rick reached over to put his hand on Carl’s shoulder.

“Son.  Carl, I need you to stay alive.  For Judith.  For our community.  I can fight this alone, but I can’t lose you.  _We_ can’t lose you.”

“You know I can do it Dad.  You know I can survive.”

“If anyone fuckin’ survives, it’ll be you, kid.”  Negan said.  The group looked at him with surprise, as if they just realized he was in the room.  “You’ll be here, stirring up shit long after me, your dad, all of us are in the ground.”

Carl nodded and smiled, and turned to the group.  Rick sighed and hung his head – even if he forbade it, he knew Carl would find a way to fight.  Finally, he nodded slowly at his son, his baby boy now toeing the line of manhood.

Rick stood up, his chair making a scraping sound that made their skin crawl, and approached Negan’s desk cautiously.  That fucking look was in his eye.  That look that said he wasn’t really afraid of Negan, just waiting for the right opportunity.  Negan _hated_ that fucking look.  Negan stood up from behind his desk, meeting Rick’s eyes.

The men stared at one another for a moment, shoulders squared and arms crossed.  Everyone in the room held their breath, the tension practically ricocheting off the walls.  Rick finally held out his hand to Negan, who looked at it a moment before taking it.  They shook hands in silence, an understanding now between them.  Was it even a mutual respect?

Negan’s initial plan had finally taken shape with the group, furious and fierce.  After Carl was admitted into the plan, final touches were made, each idea was weighed and considered.  Negan had to stop himself constantly, now without Lucy’s assistance, and instead let the group talk it through.

_A good leader knows when to take a step back,_ he thought.  He wasn’t a monster.  At least, he wasn’t trying to be.  Not anymore.

The biggest, toughest badasses he knew were here in his room, and they were composing a symphony of mayhem and hurt against evil.  It was no longer his plan, not in the end.  It was a plan from all of them, together.  They’d decided on a name, too, for all their settlements combined.  Carl had dubbed them “The Settlers.”  Sure, it wasn’t too particularly intimidating, but it was what their purpose was.  To settle and grow, to tend the earth and grow from their ruined world and create a new one.

The Order would regret fucking with Negan, he’d proclaimed to The Settlers.  They’d regret fucking with his people, and with The Settlers.  In their senseless attacks, they’d created a monster, Negan realized, but the monster wasn’t him.  It was all of them- Saviors and Alexandrians, soon the Hilltop and Kingdom.  A monster to the Order, a savior to themselves.

From the chaos that the Order had reaped, that Typhon had created, an alliance was created.  An alliance that would burn the Order to the ground, and scatter their ashes in the wind.

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

After hours of planning, arguing, yelling, and (eventually) compromising, the group finally reached a consensus on their plan of attack.  Both Negan and Rick were hoarse and nursing hot tea, although Negan had added a nipper of whiskey since tea “tasted like a whore’s ass.”  Michonne was fighting a whopper of a headache, and Lucy’s hand was cramping from writing so much.  The fading daylight, and everyone’s exhaustion, finally heralded the end of the meeting.  Detailed plans were hastily typewritten on carbon copies to be studied over and over until committed to memory, then burned.  Carl’s idea, gleamed from an old spy novel he read once, although he neglected to mention his inspiration to the rest of the group.

The room was hot and stuffy, papers and empty glasses scattered around as if blown in by a rogue wind.

“Alright, let’s all get some fuckin’ rest,” Negan conceded.  “You all go meet up with the rest of the Settlers.  Fill in ONLY the ‘need-to-knows’ and we’ll meet you out there in the morning.  We don’t know if there’s a leak somewhere, and we got the element of fuckin’ surprise on our side.  Dr. Sm- uh, Eugene, get back to the workshop and get shit ready.  Lucy’ll be down in a minute.”

Rick’s group shuffled out, Eugene in tow, throwing furtive glances over his shoulder.  Daryl hovered around the door, and glanced at Negan, who sighed audibly.

“Alright you pain-in-my-ass.  Get the fuck out of here and go with them.  I need you on your A-game, and if that means going back with them, fine.  Don’t get use to my hospi-fuckin’-tality.”

Daryl nodded, but said nothing further, and slipped out of the room.  Arat and Dwight exchanged an uncomfortable glance.  “Uh, we’ll go fill in the Saviors and get supplies ready for tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Negan nodded.

Lucy was finishing the final touches on the last copy of the plan when the silence of the room finally hit her.  She looked up from the papers and rubbed her eyes.  Her eyes and wrists were sore, and a hot bath was sounding pretty darn good about now.  Negan sighed and walked across the room next to her and sat on the edge of his desk.  He glowered at the map, muttering to himself inaudibly.

“Penny for your thoughts?”  she said, ripping the last page from the typewriter and setting it neatly on his desk.

“We got a good plan.  A good fuckin’ plan.  But, even good plans fail.  Bad luck, or bad communication.  Shit happens.”

“I know, but we have to do something.  They will keep terrorizing us, and God only knows what their plan is.  Likely to get a hold of all the women, but then what?  Destroy the settlements, enslave the men?  They dumped the hollowed out dead body of a woman in front of Sanctuary…”  Lucy furrowed her brow, deep in thought.  “They seemed obsessed with fertility, so whatever their plan is, it sure isn’t a good sign for anyone.  They are likely keeping women hostage, breeding them like cows or something.”

Negan nodded.  “Yeah, that much is fuckin’ obvious.  Don’t know what shit we will find, but it won’t be good.  We’re about to see some fucked-up shit, that’s for goddamn sure.”

“Are we going to try and save the women, if they aren’t brainwashed too?”

Negan looked at her, his dark eyes saying so many things at once.  After a moment, he spoke.  “We’ll try.  I don’t condone the killing of women or children.”

Lucy nodded.  “We should accept anyone’s surrender.  Who knows, maybe they are all brainwashed or too scared to leave, but if we give them hope...they might come around.  If it comes down to it, though… I mean, if it’s our survival versus their survival…”  She trailed off.

Negan’s jaw clenched.  “Our survival always wins out.”

“Even if we lose our humanity along the way?”

“Humanity doesn’t exist in this world anymore.  We don’t get that option.”

“There’s always a choice, Negan.  Even if you’re too stubborn to admit it, there’s always a choice.  Why do you think Rick bugs you so much?”

“Because he doesn’t respect my fuckin’ authority.”

“He doesn’t respect your _choices_.  His people respect him without the need for fear and intimidation.  Not that your methods aren’t…effective.  But long-term, you will always be on the lookout for betrayal, someone looking to end the fear, or be the new source of fear.”

Negan grunted but said nothing else.  His jaw muscles twitched, and Lucy knew it was time to back off.  She sighed and rubbed her eyes.  “Enough of this waxing philosophical.  My head is killing me, you got any aspirin?”

Negan still glared at the map, as if it would suddenly reveal some hidden feature he hadn’t considered.  “Bathroom cupboard.”

Lucy nodded and pushed through the doors into Negan’s bedroom, yawning.  She grabbed a cup from his kitchenette and filled it with water, contemplating the day.  Tomorrow would be dangerous and deadly.  People were going to die, most likely, and on both sides.  She located the aspirin and nearly burst into laughter after she swallowed the pills.  A headache was the least of her worries now, she might be dead or worse- captured.  Would the Order be preparing for them?  As far as they knew, Kevin was still checking in making it seem like a siege or a standdown, but they may grow suspicious.  They might send more men, though, and their deception would be evident.

She found Negan sitting in the bedroom, balancing a glass of bourbon while pulling off his boots.  When he looked up, his eyes softened.

“Negan, if anything happens tomorrow-“

He held up a hand.  “Aw, fuck Lucy, don’t.  Not right now.  I don’t want to talk about it.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she took a shaky breath.  “I know, I don’t either…but I have to.  If anything…happens tomorrow…”  She went over and sat next to him on the bed.  She took the bourbon from his hand and took a sip.  “Don’t let me turn.  And don’t let them take me.  If you have a shot and I’m in the way, take it.  Promise me.”

“Fuck Lucy-“ Negan rubbed the back of his neck.  He looked tired, more tired than Lucy had ever seen.  Just the idea seemed to take all the wind out of his sails.

“ _Promise me_ , Negan.  I won’t be the reason that the mission fails.  I won’t be the reason that Sanctuary falls.”

“I’m not gonna promise you that, goddammit.  It ain’t gonna happen.  We’re going to win.”

Lucy got down on her knees in front of him, and placed her hands on his cheeks.  She gently turned his head to hers, meeting his eyes.  She was surprised to see they were watery, his brow furrowed as he tried to contain his emotions.  “Please, Negan.  Please, promise me.  If I get a choice in anyone to do it, I want it to be you.  I know you’ll do it right.”

Negan grabbed her wrist, and kissed her hand.  He sighed and nodded, but offered no other reassurances.  She pulled him down towards her and kiss him, deeply and slowly at first, full of tenderness.  It was electric.  The hot, stuffy room made it nearly hard to breathe, but it only added to the heat she was beginning to feel grow in her belly.

_We might not be here after tomorrow…_

They both seemed to think the same thing, and their kissing turned frantic and desperate.  Weeks of pent up wanting and not having finally coming to a head.  He traced her body with his hands, cupping her breasts and running down her back.  Lucy fought back a moan, but one escaped anyways.  That seemed to egg Negan on, no longer constrained by any immediate interruptions at hand.  Their tongues fought, frantic and needy.  Negan pulled her towards him, up onto the bed.  She needed him, and he needed her.

Their clothes were quickly discarded, tossed haphazardly around the room.  When he finally caught a glance at her naked body, he smiled and bit his lip.  “A fuckin’ masterpiece,” he said, before she pushed him down on the bed, straddling him.

“Not so bad yourself,” she said, smirking and casting her eyes downwards towards his boxers.  She trailed her hands up his thighs and felt his hardness growing in her hand.  He growled in response, a low rumble that made her bite her lip and want him inside her.  She leaned back down and kissed down his neck, smelling his scent and committing it to memory.

In the middle of their passion, she pulled back a moment to look into his eyes and stroke his stubbly cheek.  Weeks of teasing, flirting, and yet they’d hardly gotten much time for themselves.  He looked so handsome in the fading light, the room turning a dark orange and fading quickly.  Impatient, he pulled her towards him and they began to kiss once more.  Legs entangled, rolling on the bed, they seemed to fight for dominance of who would be on top with no clear winner.

“Fuck, can we finally do this?”  Negan growled in her ear in between kissing her neck, trailing down her collarbone.

The only answer she could gasp out was “Yes!”

He flipped her on her back, and laid on top of her.  She was wet, aching and throbbing for him, and he was too, clearly.  She wrapped her legs around him and urged him on.  He entered her, his hardness filling her up.  _He feels so good,_ she thought, then told him the same.  He chuckled a little and agreed.

With every thrust, she felt herself building up towards release, a release she needed so bad.  He pulled on her hair and grunted as he grew closer to climax.  She cried his name and he swore, and together they orgasmed in ecstasy.  Sweaty and trying to catch their breath, Negan gently pulled out of Lucy and collapsed next to her on the bed.  Then he began to chuckle, a little at first, but then it grew bigger into full on laughter, until he was wiping away tears and gasping for breath.  She joined in, their sexual tension finally having a release, and they held each other, laughing.

Negan pulled her in for another kiss.  “Yeah, that was pretty fuckin’ good, doll.  I could barely fuckin’ hold myself back!”

Lucy snuggled into his shoulder and pulled a stray sheet over her naked body.  “I know.  Why the hell didn’t we do that sooner?”

Negan shrugged and smiled contentedly, all the worries and anxiety of the day forgotten in their frenzy.

Lucy scratched his beard and listened to his appreciative noises.  After a moment, she leaned up and looked at him, he cocked an eyebrow in response.

“Wanna go ahead?”  she said with a wicked smile.

“Fuck yeah!”

They didn’t get much sleep that night, but neither one of them minded.

/ / / / /

 Negan’s mind was racing.  It was late- or early, practically morning but still dark outside.  Impossible to shut off his thoughts, and he had been trying for quite some time.  His arm was asleep underneath her Lucy’s soft skin, and he focused on trying to gently awaken it.  After a minute, he gave up- he didn’t want to move and wake her, her steady breaths finally indicating that sleep had taken a hold of her.  A towel was flung at the foot of the bed, a reminder of Round Three which had been deliciously started in the shower, the steam and water masking what Negan had suspected were tears, possibly from both of them.  Not that he’d ever admit that shit, he was barely holding it together last night after Lucy made him promise.

He considered radioing in everyone, calling the whole damn thing off.  Was it really necessary?  Was there a better way?

The equivalent of espionage had been discussed, infiltrating from within and sowing discord and chaos, hopefully breaking the ranks, but that was risky.  No one felt truly comfortable being within an unknown group for an unknown amount of time, doing unknown deeds.  No, a punch to the gut was a tried-and-true response.  Negan had to admit, Rick excelled in this arena, cowing only against Negan’s ability to inflict cruelty on a few individuals for larger groups to cow to him in submission.

Where Rick failed, Negan could succeed.  Negan had actually enjoyed the planning session despite some annoyance, his respect for Rick and the boy growing incrementally.  Would it be better for all of them to continue this shaky alliance afterwards?  Would his people abandon him for greener pastures?  Negan had kept everyone in line, everyone alive for so long.  But dictatorship has a price, and Lucy’s words were echoing in his head.  Fear is an effective tool, but over the long-term, people grow weary of being afraid.

It made him nervous, this potential power shift.  Rick was getting too comfortable, too close.  But, their alliance was necessary for their survival.  All of them.  Sanctuary needed the other settlements, although the other settlements hadn’t needed Sanctuary until the Order came by.  United by a common enemy, a tactic as old as mankind.

Everything might change, afterwards.  Negan could resist, but brittle, unmoving things can break.  Or he could be an agent of change, possibly have more control over the outcome.

Lucy had thought about her own mortality for this mission, making him be her back-up plan should things go awry.  Negan hadn’t even considered what might happen to him.  He had no succession plan- who would take over if he died?  Negan rarely thought about his own death- a black shadow that loomed in the far-back corners of his mind, but it never seemed productive.  If he was dead, he was dead.  Simon sure as hell wouldn’t be taking over, he’d taken the damn Saviors away from Simon in the very beginning.  Simon never reached the depths of creative punishment that Negan could, and certainly wasn’t as intelligent, but he certainly had no problems killing indiscriminately.  He didn’t understand the nature of resources, the value of people.  Simon would crack all the eggs to create an omelet, then starve afterwards.

Dwight?  Negan wouldn’t trust Dwight as far as he could throw him.  Sure, he was loyal- when it suited him.  Right now, it suited him best to be loyal to Negan.  If Rick clawed his way up to being a threat again, there’s be a knife sticking halfway out of Negan’s back with Dwight’s name on it.  Arat was a follower, she preferred to be told who to kill and what to do.  She didn’t like aim the gun, just wanted to be told when to pull the trigger.

Negan’s stomach dropped as he realized – he had no one.  No viable successor, someone he trusted to keep shit together, keep the machine well-oiled.  If he fell, so would Sanctuary.  Hell, the only person he trusted to keep things going would be…Rick.  Enemies on a shaky alliance.  Lucy had a good heart, and with time she could be a good leader, but she needed time.  She was a rare steak that needed to be well-done.

She seemed to sense his unease and stirred in her sleep, furrowing her brow.  Negan held his breath, staring at the ceiling.  Dark, empty space that seemed to close in and suck him up.

No one.  He had no one to take over.  And he was about to charge in, guns blazing, into God-knows-what situation.  Lucy had been right to make a contingency plan.  Hell, he needed one more than she did probably.  If the Order got their mitts on her, it would be a cruel existence, but she’d be alive.  He doubted he’d make it past a bullet in the brain, if given the chance.

Negan stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, the most time he’d ever spent unoccupied.  If he couldn’t sleep, he looked through papers, ledgers, worked out, patrolled around, drank, the list was endless.  He didn’t like to sit and contemplate, be alone with his mind when it wandered.  It always seemed to go back to a dark void.  But here he sat, not wanting to move, not wanting to break this perfect moment he’d been craving for weeks, ever since he laid eyes on Lucy, beautiful and fierce, beautiful and broken.  He was a ruiner of good things, the Midas of misery. 

Lucy sighed and threw her arm over his chest, pulling herself closer in her sleep.  Negan’s mind cleared for a moment.  He took a deep, slow breath and felt the relieving sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Dawn came gently, slowing waking Lucy with dim light and muffled sounds of residents going about their morning.  She lifted her head slowly from Negan’s chest and watched him sleep for a moment.  He looked so peaceful, she hated to disturb him.  They’d exhausted themselves thoroughly last night, her muscles ached a bit but she didn’t mind at all.  She gently scratched Negan’s beard and smiled.  He made an appreciative sound in his sleep, but didn’t stir.

“Hey,” she cooed softly.  “Time to get up.”

Negan scowled and rolled over, pulling the blankets with him and exposing her naked body to the cold morning air.

“Hey!”  She yanked on the blanket, to no avail.  She sat up and wrapped a nearby towel around herself.  “Come on,” she said, rubbing his back.  “We gotta get dressed and go.”

Negan moaned and rolled over, pulled her down towards him and pinned her down.  “Nah.  Let’s let them take care of shit.  You and I got business in here.  Important business.  _Hard_ business.”  Lucy felt what he was referencing next to her thigh and giggled.

“Alright, but once we take care of business, we get ready and head out, deal?”

Negan sighed dramatically.  “Ugh.  Deal.”  He began to trail kisses down her back, and chuckled at the goosebumps that appeared.  “That’s more like it…”

Ten minutes later, Lucy booted him out of bed to fetch a towel.  “I’d hop in the shower with you, but I don’t think we’d ever leave the room again.  Don’t use up all the hot water!”

Negan threw her a wicked smile, then a clean towel.  “You sure you can fuckin’ walk after all that?  Goddamn, I thought you might break me in half there…”

“I could say the same!” she called to him through the partially closed bathroom door.  Negan laughed in return.

The pipes rattled and the shower groaned as Negan flipped it on.  “You and me both, buddy,” he muttered to the shower.

He was done after a few minutes and they switched places regretfully.  After showering, she rummaged around for some clean underwear and located her bra triumphantly hanging off a nearby lamp.  Negan had neatly folded her jeans and a clean shirt on the dresser, and she could hear voices through the double doors to the office.

She took a minute to sit on the edge of the bed, taking some deep breaths.  _Tonight’s the night,_ she thought, a pit forming in her stomach.  _Tonight we attack the Order._   Their plan would work- it had to!  If the Order managed to spread its evil any further, it would suck up all the settlements, and likely burn them to the ground.

She flexed her firsts, remembering the way the cultists had executed the children, so helpless and cruel.  It had been so long ago now, it felt like someone else’s memory.  She remembered how they’d tied her up, roughed her up.  Touched her, invaded her, and she likely wasn’t the first nor the last they intended.  She felt anger boiling inside her, magma surfacing to the edge of a volcano.

 _Focus, hone it in,_ said a little voice inside her.

Lucy marched into the office, cool and calm, but the rage not far behind.  Negan and Dwight were standing over the crude map of the Order’s base, finishing up some last details.  Negan cocked an eyebrow.  “You good, doll?”

She nodded.  “Never better.  When do we leave?”

Negan turned to Dwight, hands extended.  “Ready when you are,” Dwight said.

“I’ve got to meet up with Eugene, hammer out a few details.  Meet you out front?”  Lucy said, halfway out the office door already.  She didn’t wait for a response.

Eugene was puttering around the workshop, placing boxes by the doors and then rearranging them.  Nothing seemed quite up to par.  His face was full of relief when Lucy walked in.

“Ah, Lucy.  What do you suppose would the ideal transport for these explosives?  They need to be kept stable as possible, although I have taken into consideration the usual jostle of vehicular travel.”

Lucy looked around.  “The BBW, probably.  We aren’t taking that one out until later, when it gets dark.  It’ll take an hour or so to get to the meeting point, but we don’t want anyone to see it during daylight.  You got the cover ready?”

Eugene held up a large canvas.  “Measured and tested.  It shouldn’t get caught in the wheels and any onlooker won’t be able to easily identify the vehicle.  It impedes visibility greatly, only a small area cut out for the front window, so we will need to utilize a convoy of sorts, someone to ride in front and direct the driver clear of any obstacles.”

Lucy thought for a moment.  “A smaller vehicle would be best – we got some motorcycles.  See if Daryl is up to the task, or knows someone who is.  I saw him ride in on one when they came back from spying on the base.”

Eugene nodded in agreement.  They both looked around the workshop in silence, contemplating the past few weeks.  The room was oddly sparse now- many of the projects, traps, and tricks they’d been working on were packed neatly into boxes and loaded into the Saviors’ vehicles.  Lucy felt a sudden burst of emotion.  She cried out and threw her arms around Eugene.  He nearly jumped out of her reach in surprise, but then allowed himself to be embraced, awkwardly patting her arm.  “There, there,” was all he managed.

“Eugene,” she said, wiping away tears.  “I don’t know how this is all going to go.  You’ll be waiting on the periphery, watching over it all.  Please be careful.”

Eugene nodded.

She wiped a tear away and straightened herself in an attempt at composure.  “You’re a brave man, even if you don’t believe it, you hear?  You’ve made it this far in one piece.  You’ll be able to look at the situation and determine what needs to happen when, without hesitation or sentimentality.  If you need to blow the whole place to kingdom come, do it.  But only if there’s no other options.”

Eugene looked at her, tears welling in his eyes.  “I-I trust in Rick.  And Negan.  I trust in both of them that we will be able to pull this off.  The Order may have one smart man in charge, but we’ve got more than I can count.  And we have loyalty, bravery, and-”  His eyes went misty.  “It is like the Fellowship of the Ring heading to Mordor.  We have our team, together, and we will be unstoppable.”

Lucy laughed heartily.  “We sure are.”

 

/ / / / /

A large fleet of cars were gathered in the thick forest away from prying eyes.  It was dusk, but just barely.  Patrols from various settlements wandered around, some perched in trees, some standing on top of the taller trucks, keeping an eye out for movement.  Any stray walkers were caught with animal catcher poles and loaded into various cages or trucks.  The moans of walkers were muffled from inside the trucks, and made an eerie background noise to the otherwise silent woods.

The Order’s base was a little more than ten miles away from this gathering spot.

The leaders from Sanctuary, Alexandria, Hilltop, and the Kingdom poured out of camper that Rick had brought.  They dispersed to meet with their own and go over the plan one last time before heading into position after a few hours of more planning and last minute changes.  Everyone was shifty and fidgety, nervous energy palpable in the air.  Buckets of walker entrails peppered the ground, residents coating themselves with grim faces.  Walkers wouldn’t be the ones to take them out tonight.

Negan couldn’t help whistling and swinging Lucille around casually as he supervised the Saviors.  He was anxious, but couldn’t (wouldn’t) show it.  _Showtime._

The Kingdom left first, some driving through the woods, some heading out to the road.  They had the farthest to go, to circle around the Order’s base on the far side without being detected.  Daryl went with them, his stealth skills needed to take out any scouts.  They’d get closer, then abandoned most of the vehicles and head out on foot.

Next was Hilltop, heading to the northern side of the base thirty minutes or so after the first group left.  This area was heavier with patrols, but Daryl and crew had already scoped the place out.  The Hilltop residents knew where most of the scouts preferred to be.  The best snipers of all the groups accompanied them, needing the best vantage points from high up over the base.

Sanctuary and Alexandria were left behind. They’d leave at the same time, taking the more dangerous sides.  Overall, they had the highest numbers and the best skills.

It was finally dark by the time everyone was in position, and all was quiet outside the base.  They’d been able to get into position with only minor incidents: a small herd was dispatched, and some scouts were captured outside of their expected areas.  Otherwise, no alarms had been raised, and Negan was satisfied with their progress so far.

Walkie-talkies were fairly useless, they weren’t sure if the Order could intercept any broadcasts.  Instead, a fairly ingenious messenger system had been set up, thanks to Eugene’s otherwise unhelpful knowledge of ancient Roman communication tactics during battle.  The Order base was surrounded by Settlers, small groups from each settlement dispersed semi-evenly around.  Designated runners travelled regularly from group to group, passing along coded messages that indicated whether patrols were taken out, who was in position, and other vital information.  It took time, but it was working.  Communication was slow, but steady.

Negan and Rick were crouching in overgrown grass, watching over the base from a small hill just outside the fields surrounding the Order.  The base had some sporadic lighting on the fence, but some clear weak spots with dark, vulnerable spots.  Some other areas were illuminated where some cultists were hauling rocks and stripping down old rusted appliances.  Metal scraped and clattered as they worked, enough to mask small noises.

“They sure work awful fuckin’ late,” Negan whispered to Rick.  Rick squinted and grunted, uneasy in general.

Luck was on their side tonight – a small group of wandering walkers were already halfway to the base, attracted to the light and the small noises emanating from the base.  They’d been keeping an eye on the walkers for awhile, staying far enough away so that they’d make their way towards the fence.  Now was the time.

“Ready?”  Rick whispered.

“Hit it,” Negan replied.  His heart was pounding, the rush of blood felt deafening.

Rick signaled with the flashlight to his left.  They watched as each group passed the light signal on.  It was risky- the patrols might see, but it was the quickest way to get to Part A of the plan: distraction.  Seven trucks dispersed around the perimeter crept closer to the base in reverse, with the lights off.  They’d been fitted by Negan’s mechanics to muffle the engine sounds as much as possible, a low rumble that was hardly distinguishable over the clatter at the base.

The doors were carefully opened with minimal noise by Settlers coated in walker entrails.  Each herd was made of about ten to twenty walkers and a Settler “handler” with a remote-control car with flashing lights and fresh meat strapped on the top to lead the group of walkers towards the fence.

The walkers followed the smell and lights of the car, snarling and snapping in the darkness.  The cars zigged and zagged to spread the walkers out and prevent them from clumping together too closely.  The walkers shuffled together, sometimes clanging when they collided.  Carl’s brilliant idea had been to deck the walkers with helmets and Kevlar, but those had been deemed more beneficial for the living.  Instead, some walkers had improvised armor of pots and pans, baking sheets, or whatever shapeable metal could be found laying around.  They made quite the racket once released from the trucks.

Negan watched intently as the walkers approached the base with slow shuffles.  They’d released them as close as they safely could, but they still had some distance to close.  Some shouts erupted from the base as the guards hollered at the cultist laborers to halt their work.  The tiny lights of the remote control cars were obscured partially by grass.  Some had hit a rut or gotten stuck in ditches, but now the walkers were attracted by the light of the base.  The walkers closed in as one lone spotlight swung around wildly by a guard, attempting to assess the approaching threat.

Negan heard shouting and flashes of gunfire as the fence patrols fired wildly into the night.  Shots _plinked_ off of the walkers.  An occasional shot punched through their makeshift armor, but they gathered at the fence in growing numbers as the guards failed to take them out in time.

“No mines went off.  You think that was a bluff?”  Rick said.

“Dunno,” Negan replied.  “I guess we will fuckin’ find out.”

The little remote-controlled cars that were left buzzed towards the fences, some straggling walkers in tow.  The little cars stopped at the fence edge, just far enough from the gathering walkers. 

The cars denotated, loaded with small, but powerful, explosives courtesy again of Eugene’s brilliance.

 _I gotta think of a way to thank that nerd,_ Negan thought with pride.

The small explosions set off around the fence left jagged holes big enough for some walkers to crawl through, and eventually for Settlers.  One car had set off close to some fuel canisters stored carelessly by the fence, and a deliciously huge fireball sent flaming fuel scattering, igniting walkers and cultists alike that happened to be nearby.

Right after the explosions hit, the lone spotlight that lit up the perimeter exploded in a shattering of glass.

The snipers were right on time.  Part B of the plan: chaos.  Eliminate the lights, punch holes in the fences, spread out the Order.  The walkers were picking their way through the fences, getting caught on the ragged metal and shoving each other through.  One walker pulled itself through, snagging skin on the metal fence and kept walking as it’s skin was left behind.  Only rotting muscles and bare bones were left, a gruesome sight as the unfortunate walker plodded on.

Negan whistled softly at Rick, who nodded and signaled to the group behind them.  Crouched low in the darkness, they crept towards the base, moving quickly for a few beats and then crouching low.  Across the base, the weeds shifted in the moonlight as other teams moved in slowly.  Negan looked to his left and saw Carl crouching, a small smile on his face as he watched the base in chaos.

“Walkers are holding up,” was all he said.  Negan smiled and clapped a hand on Carl’s shoulder.

Part B was working perfectly.  Walkers had infiltrated the base, despite a few still caught on the face or stragglers that had not quite figured out were to go.  The Order sentries were scattered, not sure where to focus and were falling back towards the buildings and scrambling inside, locking behind any that were too slow or too injured to keep up.

Screams filled the air.  Walkers pounded on doors, chased around fleeing cultists, and gnashed at stranded patrols cowering in towers.

Negan smiled, eyes light up by the fires, and he couldn’t help but laugh heartily.  Rick shot him a scowl, not ready to celebrate quite yet.

“Oh don’t give me that fuckin’ stink eye, I know we ain’t outta the fuckin’ woods yet.  But I gotta admit, it’s working fan-fuckin’-tastic so far, am I right?”

Rick grunted in vague agreement.

 _Fan-fuckin’-tastic,_ Negan thought with satisfaction.

 

/ / / / /

**AN:  Thank you to Cecelia for an awesome comment last chapter! I will be on vacation the next two weeks so there will be a delay in posting the next chapter. Thank you all for such great feedback and support! <3 <3 xoxo**


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

“KILL THEM ALL!  KILL THEM!”  Mr. Typhon screamed in rage, watching the blurry security camera broadcasting the attack on his base.  HIS base, meticulously procured to meet his needs.  It was going to see greatness, eventually absorbing all nearby settlements for his purpose.  But now, he looked on in horror as cameras slowly shut down one by one from fire damage or stray bullets.  The filthy undead had also penetrated his fortress, despite all his best efforts to keep them away.  Their putrid bodies shuffled around, until exploding from gunfire.  He watched in horror as brains and blood splattered over once pristine surroundings.

Typhon’s preemptive attack on Sanctuary had failed, he understood.  Rage boiled in his belly as he thought of the idiocy of his advisors.  He should have sent more firepower, more dynamite, more grenades.  More, more, more, and they wouldn’t be in this situation now.

The door to the security room flew open.  A breathless guard stood panting, sweat dripping from his brow.  “Sir, the men have fallen back, taking shelter inside.  Some to the warehouse but others in the barracks.  They were overwhelmed-“

Typhon charged towards the nameless guard and gripped his throat tightly, lifting him slightly off the ground.  The guard’s eyes grew wide and the tips of his boots squeaked against the tile floor as he struggled for air.

“I don’t care about anything you say next,” Typhon hissed.  “Just get them outside.  We are under attack by that ingrate biker gang and their _pathetic_ settlements.  Capture their leader and bring him to the warehouse.  NOW.”  He squeezed a little tighter, enjoying the moment as the man’s eyes began to bulge, then released his grip.  He wiped his hands, now coated with the young guard’s sweat, on the nearest guard’s shirt with disgust.

The lackey gulped and scurried away, rubbing his throat.

Mr. Typhon reached for his pistol, tucked away within his jacket.  He felt a small relief when his fingers brushed against the cool metal, then signaled for the nearby guards to follow him.

“Warehouse.  Now.”

/ / / / /

 

Negan ducked as a stray bullet ricocheted off the concrete wall they were hiding behind, spraying dust and particles with a loud _CRACK_.  The base had three smaller buildings, one large building centrally located, and a large warehouse-type building that still had guards out front.  Two of the smaller ones were barracks, the other some sort of an administrative building repurposed for storage.  Negan had sent Snake and Kevin to the administrative building with a handful of men, while King Ezekiel and Aaron led teams to the barracks.  Anyone that surrendered would be moved to cover closest to the broken fences for transport.

That left the larger buildings for Negan and Rick’s team.  Walkers still roamed around, but were drawn towards the warehouse by active gunfire.  Negan looked around the yard in chaos.  Bodies littered the ground, practically indiscernible if they had been the undead or not previously.  The fence was useless now, gaping holes had weakened entire sections which now sagged closer and closer to the ground.  Fires were still burning around the base, but they stayed relatively contained.  The only sight that would make it more beautiful, in Negan’s eyes, would be that Typhon motherfucker, his head on a goddamn spike.

Rick nudged Negan and pointed towards the center building.  “That is most likely the canteen, judging by the boxes outside,” Rick said, squinting through the smoke and haze.  “We outta see if any of those are salvageable before we leave, we’ll take any food we can get.”

“Secure it, or straight to the warehouse?” Negan huffed, taking a well-placed headshot on a cultist that emerged from behind some cover.  He realized with surprise he was asking for Rick’s tactical opinion, instead of ordering him.  “Their dear leader will likely be fuckin’ there.”

Before Rick had a chance to reply, Dwight came sliding out of a side door of the canteen, silent as a snake.  He searched the area and nodded when he caught Negan’s eye.

“Warehouse it is,” they said in unison.

Negan chuckled.  “Careful, Rick, we might be making friendship bracelets if we spend any more fuckin’ time together.”

Rick scowled.  “Doubt it.”  Negan couldn’t deny the ghost of a smile twitched the corners of Rick’s lips.  When they weren’t too busy at each other’s throats, or when Rick wasn’t being a stupid little prick, they made a pretty good goddamn team.  He felt a little pang, thinking about that night in the woods, a thirsty Lucille… but dammit, now was not the fucking time.  They moved swiftly through the ruins, ducking behind cover every few feet and returning fire.  Negan and his Saviors covered Rick and the Alexandrians when they moved, and vice versa.

_A goddamn ballet of mayhem._

The warehouse stood alone, a bastion in the battle.  It was about four stories tall, and the largest building on the base.  As they crept towards it, they realized their own people were hiding around corners, trying to figure out how to get in.  A woman from Hilltop crouched out of cover to inspect the building closer.  A shot rang out, and she crumpled to the floor. 

“Someone’s on the roof,” Rick whispered to Negan, once they found sufficient cover for themselves.  “At least two of ‘em.”  

Lights shone out from the roof, almost a ridiculous amount of spotlights and security lights.  They illuminated the area around it and making it damn near impossible to sneak up to the last holdout.

“We gotta take those fuckin’ lights out,” Negan whispered to Rick.  He nodded in agreement. 

They both raised their guns and began shooting.  Glass shattered as lightbulbs exploded, spraying glass with a loud _POP._ Bullets ricocheted off the metal and concrete, and they heard some muffled shouting from the roof.  Once the other Settlers saw what their leaders had initiated, they joined in, firing off rounds towards the lights.  Soon, the warehouse was shrouded in darkness.

Despite the lack of light, the sniper still tried to fire on shadows, hoping to hit something.

“Shit, you think they got night vision?” Negan asked Rick as his swapped to a new cartridge.

A bullet hit dangerously close to hitting the transport vans, who had been making slow but steady progress in transporting surrendered cultists.

Rick made a low grumbling as he turned the thought over.  “Could be.  If so, we still gotta be careful.”

“Alright.  You go right the fuck ahead and I’ll make a scene back here.”

“You sure?”

“Fuck yeah.  I _like_ making a scene.”

Rick snorted, suppressing a laugh.

“Jesus, Rick, you can fuckin’ laugh if you want to fuckin’ laugh.  It ain’t a goddamn betrayal.  I’m a fuckin’ funny guy, sometimes.”  Negan gripped Rick’s shoulder, but had a softer grip than usual.  The apology stuck in his throat, and he couldn’t quite get then.  Instead, he patted Rick’s shoulder.  “Now fuck off, and I’ll distract these motherfuckers.”

Negan dashed out from cover, darting sideways and firing wildly.  He whistled and motioned, and his people – Rick’s people, slid out from their cover and surrounded the warehouse as Negan continued to fire.  Bullets returned the favor back to him, and he heard one whizz dangerously close to his ear.  Now he was stranded, the only one left behind cover as the Settlers huddled around the building, out of sight from the roof.

“Heya, boss.”  Negan turned his head to find Kevin crouched behind a barrel.  “Do we make a run for it?”

“Kevin, you’ll probably never fuckin’ hear this again, but I’m glad to see you.”  Kevin beamed, Negan supposed, but it was too dark to tell.   “Yeah, let’s blow this lollipop stand.”  They heard some gunfire from the side of the warehouse, hopefully a distraction by Rick, but they’d find out soon enough.

Kevin fired first towards the rooftop, then Negan joined in as they dashed towards the warehouse.  The snipers must have been sufficiently distracted, as they did not return fire.

The warehouse windows were boarded up and Negan could only see one door on this side.  Only one entrance and exit, and it made Negan nervous.  It felt like a vice, holding and squeezing them.

“I don’t like this,” Rick said.  He put his hand out to stop Kevin from bashing on the doorknob to break it open.  “You two,” he pointed to a man and a woman Negan didn’t recognize.  “You do a sweep around the sides, see if there’s another way.”

“There a roof entrance?” Negan wondered.  He spotted a fire escape around the side, but the bottom ladder had been pulled up and was too high to reach.

“There’s a sniper up there, maybe more,” Rick warned.

“Even so, we should take the bastard out.  They’re gonna cream the transport van if they get lucky.”

They had to do something.  They looked like a bunch of assholes standing around outside, their people looking to them for guidance.

“I-I can reach the ladder.  Sir.” Kevin stepped forward, speaking in a low tone.  In the faint light Negan could see blood and dirt smeared all over his face, but his eyes shone bright.  “I can reach it if someone gives me a step up.”

Negan rolled this thought around in his head.  He had to admit, the kid had balls.  He was always tripping over himself in nervousness, but if you needed something done, Kevin was happy to volunteer.  So far he’d managed to be braver than most, despite looking like he was about to vomit the entire time.  Negan eyed him carefully.  “Thought you were scared of heights, Kev.”

 Kevin nodded.  “I hate heights, never been a fan, but I always liked to climb.  Just can’t look down, I guess.”

Negan looked to Rick, who shrugged.  “Alright, let’s give you a boost.  Let down the ladder for us and for fuck’s sake, be quiet.”

Rick turned to Morgan and a few other Alexandrians.  “Provide some fire cover, make some noise.  I don’t want them to hear us on the stairs.”  Morgan nodded and began to whisper with a few others.  Two of them stayed near the warehouse and began bashing the boards over the windows, while the other group began to open fire on the stray walkers roaming around.  Others soon began to join in bashing in the boarded-up windows, some to give themselves something to do, others just happy to break things.

Negan, Rick, and Kevin walked over to the ladder.  Rick and Negan provided Kevin a leg up, lifting up the gangly man towards the bottom rungs of the ladder.  Negan marveled at Kevin’s oddly deceptive upper body strength, as he grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder and began heaving himself up.  Hand-over-hand, he lifted himself up to the bottom landing and began inspecting the ladder for a way to release it.

The sounds of wood splintering and glass shattering provided decent enough distraction.  Kevin located a latch and flipped it, and the ladder quickly shot down and stopped a few inches short of the asphalt.  Unfortunately for them, the metal reverberated loudly.  Too loudly.  Negan could feel his teeth rattle from the noise.

“Quick!” Rick pushed Negan towards the ladder, and before he could get too annoyed, they heard shouting from the rooftop.  Kevin leaned over the railing and aimed upwards, waiting for any sign of trouble.  The moonlight provided just enough light to barely see what they were doing, and if they could get inside, they could use their flashlights.  But now, it was old school, by the light of the moon.

Kevin worked his way slowly up the stairs as Negan hit the first landing and pulled Rick up.

Something clanged down the stairs.  “GRENADE!” Kevin shouted, and leaped towards the sound.  Within a second, he grabbed it with a holler and lobbed it back up on the roof.  Muffled shouting was hear, then an explosion.  Someone screamed in agony, and another shouted from the rooftop, swearing and cursing them.

“Holy shit, Kevin!” Negan yelled.  _I underestimated the crazy bastard,_ he thought with glee.  He wondered who else he had underestimated.

Whooping was heard down below as glass shattered.

“They must’ve broken through the windows, finally,” Rick muttered.  The others wouldn’t go in quite yet, though.  Under Negan’s orders, they were to wait until the signal to breach the warehouse.  They made their way, guns drawn, up the rest of the stairs.  They crouched next to Kevin, catching their breath for a moment.  Kevin peeked over the roof just as a cultist leaned over to inspect the stairwell.

Without hesitation, Negan grabbed the cultist under his arms, and deftly heaved him over the side of the building.  He hit the asphalt below with a sickening crunch.  _Probably not dead, but wishing he was, if he isn’t unconscious._

“Nice,” Kevin whispered.  He peeked over the side of the roof.  “There’s two more, one of them looks knocked out.  Other guy is on the opposite side, looks like he’s distracted by the others.  The grenade punched a hole in the roof, it looks like, so tread carefully.”

Rick looked with him briefly before turning to Negan.  “I’ll sneak up on the distracted one, you two check out the other guy.”

Negan frowned.  “How come you get all the glory?  A knocked-out dickhead doesn’t need two guys to make sure he’s out.”

Rick shrugged.  “I’m the quietest.  You wanna take the risk, be my guest.”

Negan scowled for a moment, then nodded.  He heard Lucy’s voice, _Let go of your ego.  Do what’s best for everyone, not just for you._ He couldn’t recall her actually ever saying that, but it was her voice nonetheless.  Maybe she had said it, and he couldn’t quite remember.  Or his conscious, a sleeping beast that rarely made an appearance, had decided to use Lucy’s voice in a desperate attempt to make an appearance.

Shit.  Lucy, or whatever it was, was right.  Let the fuck go.

Negan nodded to Rick and they quietly made their way on the roof, hoping the sounds below muffled the crunch of gravel.  Rick barely made a sound, and Negan wondered if that was Daryl’s handiwork, or the other way around.  Kevin made it to the unmoving shape and inspected the unconscious one.

“He’s dead.  He’s turning,” Kevin whispered.  He pulled a knife and dispatched him.

Negan inspected the roof for signs of others, then located a small raised square in the middle- a hatch.  They heard a yelp and saw Rick standing over the side of the roof, looking over the side.  Another _crunch_ and the others below whooped and laughed.  Someone sang “Another One Bites the Dust,” followed by more voices in unison.

Negan whistled for Rick, and they all stood around the hatch entrance on the roof.

“This is fuckin’ stupid, we don’t know where this hatch goes,” Negan said.  Kevin nodded in agreement.

Rick looked the two of them over carefully.  “So, should we around debating on whether it’s a bad idea, or should we proceed with caution and hope for the best?”

Negan smiled, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.  “That’s what I admire about you, Rick.  You don’t dick around.  It’s ‘get shit done’ time with you, always.”  He gave the signal: three low whistles followed by two higher ones.  They heard the others clamor below as they breached the warehouse.

“Now or never,” Rick said as he flipped open the hatch.

Below was darkness, punctuated by the occasional flash of gunfire.  Kevin went first, eager and willing.  Negan gave Rick a quizzical look of mutual understanding, of a growing respect, then proceeded down.  Down into the darkness, down into the unknown.

He wished Lucille was here, thirsty for blood.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

From a distance, the rest of the Settlers noted carefully how the assault was unfolding.  Each moment was filled with anxiety as the assault plan unfolded, but there was still room for disaster.  Lucy’s heart was pounding in her chest.  She had to keep reminding herself to breathe, her chest tight with worry.  Carl was pacing nearby, clicking the safety on his gun impatiently.

“When can we go in?  It’s been too long.  What if they need our help?”

“Not yet,” Lucy replied.  “It looks like the gunfire is now clustered in one area, so we are behind schedule but still on track.  We wait for the signal.”

“What if we never get a signal?” he asked.

“We’ll think of something, don’t worry.”

Carl sighed and stomped over to be sullen near the transport trucks, and Lucy didn’t blame him.  It was terrible, this helpless waiting, for the people they loved. 

The transport trucks were a success, leading weary-eyed men away from the carnage to a safe distance away.  The cultists now sat at gunpoint on the ground, hands cuffed behind their backs with zipties.  Dr. Carson worked his way down the line, inspecting them for anything that required immediate medical attention.  Most of them were thin, and all of them had signs of injuries, old and new.  The prisoners looked hollow, empty of any spark left inside.  There was no resistance in them, and Lucy wondered if they had just been broken, just trying to survive, instead of blindly following a tyrannical psychopath.  Perhaps there had been doubt in their hearts, but resistance was more dangerous.  These men were just like everyone else, looking for comfort and safety in a dangerous world.  The poor bastards just looked in the wrong place from the wrong people- double whammy.

Dr. Carson met Lucy’s eyes in the faint din of their lanterns, and pulled her far enough away from the prisoners.

“They’re starving,” he said bluntly.  “Fairly recently, too.  The past few weeks have been bad, they’ve said, and it shows.  Their gardens didn’t produce enough because their water usage is limited, and they’ve slaughtered most of their livestock.  They’ve been hunting but can only usually get rabbits in this area, which aren’t a good source of protein long-term.  This Typhon asshole has been working them to the bone.  Many of them have been tortured, bad enough that some won’t walk right or some won’t be able to hold a hammer, depending on the injury.”

Lucy stared at him in horror.  “Why haven’t they fled?  How have they been surviving?”

“Deserters are shot.  The guards get priority when it comes to food, scavenging, women, whatever their needs are.  The guards worship this Typhon guy, they see him as the second coming.  ‘Starvation is a test,’ these poor bastards were told.  That’s why they came with us with no fight.  They haven’t got the energy, they’ve all asked me if they’ll get fed before their execution.  That’s all they are asking for: food and water.”

Lucy’s stomach dropped.  “Execution?  We aren’t going to execute them.”

“I explained as much, but they don’t believe me.”

“How have they been able to attack us?  And why?”

Dr. Carson shook his head.  “These aren’t the people that would know – these are just laborers.  They’ve been told their salvation is westward, and Typhon and his sycophants have been wiping out heathens to bring them bounty.  That’s all.”

Lucy walked over to the prisoners.  “Tell me about Typhon,” she addressed to the group.

One man’s eyes grew wide and white.  “He is…great.  He is our leader who fills us with awe.  His intelligence knows no match, nor his prowess-“

She lifted a hand and he clamped his mouth shut.  “Typhon is not here, and you are under my protection now- our protection.  You will not be executed- you will be fed and given proper medical attention.  You will be placed into cells as a quarantine, but you won’t be harmed unless you are aggressive.  Once you are healthy and appear to do us no harm, you will be integrated into our settlements, if you so chose, or you are free to go your own path.”

Empty eyes looked back at her.  Had they understood what she said?  She crouched on the ground, eye-level with a nearby cultists that looked still somewhat lucid.  “Tell me your name, friend.”

The man looked startled, then choked back a sob.  “My…name?   From before?”

Lucy nodded.   _From before?_

“It was…Henry.  Now I have no name, I am called Nineteen.  We shed our birth names to join the Order- to start anew.”

Lucy nodded, a latent rage now coming to a boil in her belly.  “Tell me about Typhon, Henry.  No need to be afraid.”

“We are-we were…followers of Mr. Typhon’s vision.  It was happy here, for a time.  We worked hard, had plenty of food, clean water.  It was safe here, the guards kept away the unclean- you call them ‘walkers.’  Mr. Typhon longed for a great world, full of knowledge and wisdom, to prevent anything like the collapse from happening again.  It wasn’t long before our women disappeared.  Into the warehouse, we whispered.  Mr. Typhon kept them safe, said they couldn’t be out here with us.  He began to say that only his offspring could bring the world he envisioned.  The disease that made the unclean was the folly of men with too much power and too much technology, he would say.  We listened and followed.  We did not know what else to do.  We were safe, and happy, for a time…”

Henry, formerly Nineteen, swallowed hard and shivered.  “I do not think he realized how bad it had gotten over the past few weeks, or months, I suppose.  As our numbers grew, so did his paranoia.  Whenever something does not go his way, his temper is furious.  We are tortured for one person’s infraction.  We are beaten for not being quick enough.  The guards, they whisper lies to him… That food is bountiful and we are strong and healthy.  They keep him insulated in his quarters in the warehouse more and more, and he has lost sight of the real world.  He is smart, oh yes, this was never a doubt.  Maybe a genius, before the unclean filled our world.  But what good is intelligence when you are fed false information?”  Henry shifted in his seat as the others nodded in agreement.

Another man spoke up, grey-haired and wrinkled, his voice frail and thin.  “It is not the guard’s fault, I don’t think, that they feed him what he wants to hear.  He punishes the messenger for bringing bad news, so no one brings him bad news.  It was not so bad at first, he did try to lead us.  He had a vision of conquering the world, but I think he found running things tedious and beneath him.  We were happy, at the start.  Not anymore. ”

“Why has he been attacking settlements then?  His power is declining, his people weak.  It doesn’t make sense.”

Henry spoke.  “He did not know this, with the lies he was fed.  To him, we were on the rise.  His vision was clouded with his obsession: to have children to conquer others in his name.  I think he would only truly trust something that came from him, and even then, it would be a shaky trust at best.”

His voice crackled, hoarse and dry.  He swallowed, wincing in discomfort.  Dr. Carson brought over a handful of water bottles, some of the tied up men began to squirm and groan in anticipation as the doctor began to give them each water, one by one.  Lucy uncapped one and let Henry drink from it.  Water spilled down his chin greedily, and he nodded in thanks.

“But there were problems, we think, with Typhon.  We never dared to say anything, God no,”  he chuckled bitterly.   “Only whispers of one child so far, after failed insemination of dozens of women.  He said that it was difficult to find a suitable match, his DNA was beyond an ordinary person’s.  Bullshit, I say.  He took more of our women until none were left with us.  Somewhere in that warehouse… We don’t know if they are alive or dead.  He needed more to try.”

“The Great Engineer,” said the grey-haired man.

“The Great Engineer,” the others echoed.

The hair on Lucy’s arms prickled as the hollow-eyed men spoke in unison.  They were brainwashed, but coming out of a fog.  Pangs of hunger and flying bullets had given them a jolt of reality, but it was still a struggle.  One of the Saviors moved to knock the nearest cultist with the butt of his gun, as he squirmed for more water, but Lucy cried out for him to stop.  The Savior shrugged and halted, looked vaguely disappointed.

“What is ‘The Great Engineer?’” she asked.  Her heart was pounding.  She didn’t want to know the answer.

“She built the structure that Typhon says is a marvel.  We were not allowed to look on it, yet.  He has been looking for her, he says she is the viable vessel he needs.  The maze, it will free us all, he says.  He did not say how.  We did not understand.”

Bile rose up in Lucy’s mouth and she sat down heavily from her crouched position.  _A maze?_   That night…the Order had been approaching the maze to get her, just as she feared.  If Negan hadn’t approached her, perhaps Typhon would have left them alone.  He only wanted Lucy, after seeing that maze.

Her head spun and her knees felt like water.  She stood up shakily and walked away from the group nestled in the tall grass.  She got far enough away and retched into the grass.

_All your fault…it’s all your fault._

”No time,” she whispered.  “No time for this!”

She sighed and took a few deep breaths, clearing her mind as best she could.  Keep busy, deal with it later. 

_All the people who have died since that night…_

Carl flagged her back as a final transport truck rumbled to them, hitched to a trailer with skinny cows, listless goats, and ornery chickens in crates.  Lucy felt a pang of sorrow, but spoke quickly with the driver.  He loaded in some of the cultists that had a clean bill of health from Dr. Carson, along with two Saviors to sit in front and back.

“Drop them off, then head back as soon as you can.  We’ll need all the vehicles we have.”  The driver nodded, then took off.

She moved away from the cultist, back to her post, she couldn’t bear to hear anything else from the brainwashed men.  Instead, she cleared her mind and watched the base before her, waiting for the sign.

More waiting.  The flashes of light from gunfire had died down to only an occasional shot.  The lights around the warehouse were dead, Lucy didn’t know if that was good or not yet.  Patrols in the empty fields surrounding the base were taking out stray walkers to avoid a herd buildup.

Lucy’s heartbeat grew louder as the base grew quieter.  Just when she was starting to transition from worry to panic, she heard it: a signal whistle carrying through the crisp night air.

 _All safe,_ it said. _At the warehouse._

Carl grabbed her arm lightly.  “Look!  The warehouse – are those windows glowing kind of green?  That’s the glowsticks, they must have made it inside!”

Lucy smiled.  “Bingo.”

 

/ / / / /

The front of warehouse was empty.  Old office furniture had been stacked around the windows as small barricades made for cover, ready for an assault.  But no one greeted them when they breeched the warehouse.  Saviors and Alexandrians, Kingdom and Hilltop residents were alert, guns drawn and ready at the sound of any disturbance.  Rick signaled to them and they began disassembling the barricades.  The windows needed to be clear to give the signal, and for easy escape in case things went awry.

“So why the fuck did we take the roof?” Negan grumbled in a low tone.  “No one is in here, anyways.  Not a warm fuckin’ welcome to be had.”

“Had to take out the snipers, they could have caused damage for reinforcements,” Rick whispered back.  Negan supposed he was right, but merely grunted in response.  Morgan began rummaging through a bag and began cracking glowsticks.  They littered them around the floor, giving it an eerie green glow.

They progressed forward with Rick and Negan in the lead, the others following behind in a loose formation.  After they pushed through the first doors, they came to a hallway with a lone elevator in front of them.  Rick checked the left hallway, Negan checked right.

“Clear,” they said in unison.

Rick turned to the group behind them.  “Fan out.  Five of you go left, five of you go right.  The rest of you sit tight with us.”  He turned to Negan and pulled him a few steps away from the others.  “I don’t like this,” he said in a hushed tone.  “Something’s not right.  This looks industrial on the outside, but inside…it just doesn’t fit.  Why are there so many doors that look like they require a badge to access?  It looks too high-tech for a warehouse.”

Negan nodded.  Before he could reply, the elevator caught his eye.  It looked like it too required some sort of badge access to use, but the door was partially open, as if pried.  The light flickered inside, unsure of whether it wanted to die out or not.  It didn’t appear to be in working condition, and hadn’t been in some time.  The cabin was partially out of alignment with the doors, requiring a step down to enter.  Gun at the ready, he popped his head inside.  Clear.

It appeared to be an ordinary elevator.  He scanned the inside, and his eyes grew wide.  “Rick!” he whispered.  Rick was already behind him.  He stepped back to allow Rick to take a look.  “Don’t step inside, it looks like this piece of shit may fall at any time.”

Rick stepped back.  “There’s buttons for at least thirty floors.”

They exchanged glances.  Rick wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed.

“There’s _thirty_ goddamn floors below us, Rick.  This was not just a small little army base, the fuckin’ government, or Army, or whoever the fuck just wanted it to look that way.  They were doing shit here, secret shit they didn’t want anyone else to know about.”

Rick nodded and motioned for Morgan, and began to fill him in on their discovery.  As they contemplated their next move, team “left” whistled their alarm signal.  Rick ordered a small team to stay there in case of ambush before they rushed to meet up.  A Savior walked up to Negan.

“Sir, through that door is the warehouse portion.  Inside…” he trailed off, fumbling for the words.  Impatiently, Negan pushed past him and crouched, pushing the door open slowly with the barrel of his gun out.

The warehouse was empty, save for a few gutted cars on cinder blocks in one corner.  A steel walkway lined the ceiling, nearly three stories up, along with a small supervision area built into the corner.  Stairs were nearby the door Negan was peeking through, and another set on the far side of the warehouse, barely visible next to a freight elevator.   The center of the expansive room was illuminated by gigantic spotlights.  Negan nearly dropped his rifle in surprise.

The maze.  It had been painstakingly disassembled and reassembled, although still a work in progress in some areas.  Negan pushed through the door and signaled for the others, who fanned out and sought cover, guns drawn towards the maze.

“What the…”  Rick’s eye were huge in amazement.  “What is this?”

Negan snorted.  “Long fuckin’ story.  Remember the girl I came to visit you with?”

Rick squinted, trying to remember.  “Yeah, barely.”

“I found her in this.  _She fuckin’ built it_ , but it was about 50 miles from here, maybe more.  They must have brought it back here. Son of a -”

Before he could finish, a tapping echoed through the warehouse.  Rick drew his rifle and crouched down next to Negan, and they moved slowly forward.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Behind a section of a maze, a tall man walked out with a dozen or so guards trailing behind him.  He was immaculately dressed, holding a beautiful cane which _tap-tap-tapped_ along the floor, in rhythm with his exquisite leather shoes.

“Gentlemen,” the man drawled.  “So glad you could make it.”

He smiled a predator’s smile, full of hunger and power.  “I believe you have been looking for me.”

**/ / / / /**


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

 “Gentlemen,” Typhon drawled.  “So glad you could make it.  I believe you have been looking for me.”  His face broke out in a slow smile, showing small, white teeth.  Too many teeth in a wide grin, with black, lifeless eyes.  Something a fish sees before the shark strikes.  The guards behind him wore ill-fitting security uniforms with Kevlar vests on, completed with green armbands with the spiral symbol Typhon was so fond of.  Their eyes were full of fire compared to the hollow, empty eyes of the resident cultists.  These men had something to fight for, something die for.  Didn’t matter if it was bullshit or not.  Despite his bubbling rage, Negan had to admire the guy for his ability to gather followers.

Cocking his eyebrow at the uncomfortable silence, Typhon continued.  “I am Mr. Typhon, but you can drop the ‘Mister,’ as my _guest_.  Negan, is amongst you, I presume?”  He looked out into the dim light, but most of the Settlers were behind cover, unsure of what to do.

Negan and Rick shifted in their position, exchanging glances, but said nothing.  Typhon’s voice echoed in the warehouse, off the walls and seemed to surround them.

Typhon put his hand up in placation.  He wore gloves, white gloves.  They looked starched, almost punishingly so.  “As you can see, you have numbers on your side.  I stand humbled before you, asking only for two things.”  He folded his hands on the top of his cane, smiling expectantly.

Rick stood up, gun drawn.  Typhon’s guards raised theirs the response, and formed a line surrounding their master.  “And what are these two things you ask?”

Typhon frowned, his black eyes sparkling.  “You, sir, are not Negan.  Do you speak for him?  From my understanding, you lead the settlement in that wonderful suburb, full of pipe dreams and… _fecundity_.  But Negan has dominated you, alas, and he is whom I wish to speak to.  The conqueror, the _conquistador_ , not… the broken leader of a broken community.  Apologies.”  He smiled with almost a hint of apology.  Almost.

Rick’s cheeks flushed, but he said nothing.  Little tendons flexed in his forehead as he clenched his jaw. 

Negan held back a chuckle.  This man was a goddamn idiot for underestimating Rick.  He understood better than anyone in this world – Rick had taken out a lot of Negan’s own goddamn people, with a shoestring staff of killing machines.  Typhon may be a genius in some sort of shitty way Negan didn’t know, but if he brushed Rick aside, there was hope yet. 

Negan whistled a few high notes, the kind that made stomachs unsettle and ears ring.  It shifted into a casual tune and he and stood up, desperately wishing for Lucille once more.  Without her, he felt a little incomplete with his swaggering walk.  Instead, he slung his rifle over his shoulder as a substitute, and as he approached he held out a hand as he passed a Savior.  The man fumbled for a moment, and placed a Desert Eagle, a huge, unwieldy pistol in his hand. .44 Magnum bullets.  The impact of these bullets could knock a man out of his shoes.

It could blow the balls off a bull, and looked cool as hell.  Not quite Lucille, but still effective.

Negan stepped closer into the light, flicking the safety off the pistol and still whistling.  Typhon squinted and searched for the source, but the spotlights were too bright in his eyes.  Negan stayed in the periphery, a moving shadow that Typhon couldn’t quite place.

“I’m Negan.  I’m not much for negotiations there, Hoss.  But please, let’s hear your two conditions.  I’m a reasonable man, and I’ve killed a fair amount of your people.  Why don’t you fuckin’ enlighten me?”

Typhon smiled.  “Ah, yes.  Pleasure to make your acquaintance, finally.  We have been watching you for _so long._ ”  He cleared his throat, a wet sound that make Negan want to spit. 

“My conditions are as follows: One, abandon me and the rest of my followers here.  They have toiled so long for me, and are unlikely to take to a new master.  As you’ve said, you’ve killed quite a few.  Our numbers, I must admit, are dismal and certainly nothing for a man of your…standing to be threatened by.”  Typhon tapped his cane a few times on the floor idly.  Or not so idly, Negan thought.  He moved closer into the light so Typhon could see him, and only him. 

“Ah, that is much better, thank you.  I will even acquiesce to your usual demands and provide you a tribute, with what little we have left.  Thought our food is scarce, we have adequate medical supplies, more than enough to spare.  Ammunition and weapons, of course, have been no trouble for us as well.  This tribute will be collected at the time of your choosing, the amount of your choosing, within reason of course.  But it will be a one-time exchange, then you will leave us to our own devices.  We will not disturb you further, and you shall do the same.”

Negan continued to smile, as if Typhon’s plan was exactly the thing he was waiting for.  But he trusted Rick to follow this goddamn snake.  They’d been drawn in here on purpose, no doubt.  Typhon was killing time, he had no intentions of surrendering any of his “followers” or supplies.  Negan turned to where Rick had been, after he had stepped back into the shadows.  He hoped he was talking to no one, Rick better be fucking elsewhere, setting up something.

“Sounds pretty fuckin’ reasonable so far.  Rick here knows I’m a reasonable guy.  Rick here remembers the _beartrap_ from way back!”

Rick mumbled a response in the positive, his voice faint and unplaceable in the vast warehouse..  Negan’s trigger word for “ _Be on alert.”_  

From the shadows, far away from the empty space Negan was pretending to talk to, Rick nudged a few men and signaled to the steel walkway above them.  He had signaled to Negan earlier, during Typhon’s speech- it was perfectly situated for a trap.  The Settlers began to fan out quietly, and Rick made his way slowly to the stairs.  Typhon and his men in the center of the room were blinded by the spotlights, their own folly of trying to create a dramatic scene for the Settlers to stumble into.  As long as they kept quiet, and Negan kept him distracted, maybe they could stay ahead of whatever trap was being set.

“What’s the second fucking condition, Hoss?”  Negan said, bored.  He admired the Desert Eagle for a moment, then tucked it into the back of his pants.

Typhon’s smile faltered at the unwelcome nickname, so _base_ , but he soldiered on.  Negan wondered if Typhon starched his tighty-whities or whatever the hell drawers he wore underneath those crisply irons pants.  He seemed like the type.  Typhon probably checked for dust with those white gloves, tutting like an old hen when it came up unsatisfactory.  Who the fuck irons pants after civilization collapses?  _This fucking guy._

“The second condition, yes.  See this beauty behind me?  I know you recognize it, from that unfortunate evening.  We’d been watching its construction, and constructor, with piqued interest for awhile.  Long before you stumbled on it, blindly, I’m sure.”

Typhon turned towards the maze, raising his hands up towards it like a fervent churchgoer, his cane clutched still in one hand.   “It is…perfect.  What ingenuity!  What strength of character!  My second condition is the release of its creator, that _brilliant_ woman, to me.  I require her services further, she will not be treated ill.  Quite the opposite, in fact.”

This time Negan’s smile faltered.  It was then he noticed small differences in the maze.  Typhon’s symbol here and there, covering up Lucy’s original graffiti.  In the center, where Lucy had the music and lawn chairs set up, there now was only one large chair.  It looked like a throne.

_Fuck._

“I would have to agree, it is a fuckin’ wonder.  Its creator is too, as I’m sure you’ve discovered yourself.  Since you’ve been watching us, and all.  Although, was that yourself watching, or through your fuckin’ lackeys?”

Typhon’s eyes sparkled.  “I could ask the same of you myself.  This was clearly a coordinated attack.  I underestimated you, I admit that freely.  It was a mistake to assume you lacked… intelligence.  A thousand apologies.  Even now, with your… colorful language and overconfidence, it is easy to underestimate you.  But you understand that, of course.  Perhaps in due time, we could even join forces, an alliance of sorts.”  He lifted his cane and inspected the ornate handle, shining in the light like the blade of a dagger.  “I notice you are missing an appendage this evening.”

Negan cocked an eyebrow at him curiously.  Typhon chuckled.  “Not literally, of course.  I speak metaphorically.  That, um, _baseball bat_ you cleverly wrapped in barbed wire...what do you call it?  Ah yes, _Lucille._   An odd name, I admit, but probably sentimental, I’d expect.”

 Typhon took a few steps forward towards Negan.  His eyes were black, two rotted pits of darkness.  Negan could smell a small whiff of cologne, and… bleach?  A tiny bead of sweat dripped down Typhon’s head, the heat of the spotlight setting in.  He wore a suit and hat, as if they were in an old-timey gangster movie.

Typhon continued.  “I do wonder… does your arm just positively _itch_ without it?  I find it difficult without my cane, too.  You suddenly miss her when she isn’t there, and take for granted when she is there.  Feels like a piece of you is missing, doesn’t it?  Don’t fret, I understand though.  Not quite practical under these circumstances.  Firepower is far more important.”  He lifted his cane slightly closer to Negan, as if to let him inspect it from a distance.  “I don’t need it to walk, you see.  She’s just a marvel of craftsmanship, and just as deadly as yours.  Far more polished, I would imagine.  Yours must be _hell_ to clean.  All those crevaces.  How do you keep her from rusting?  It can’t be easy.”

Negan took a step forward and chuckled at the guard’ reaction.  They were jumpy, all nerves.  They were used to threatening with their firearms, but not used to actually using them.  He pointed at a guard, third from the left.  “Your safety’s on.”  The man jumped slightly and looked down, flicking the safety off.  Typhon sighed.

_He’s trying to get under your skin, bringing up Lucille.  This is a part of his plan._

“Half the fuckin’ fun is cleaning her off afterwards.  Like a hot shower after a good fuck.”  Typhone winced at the crudeness, but Negan continued.  “All that blood and tissue and fuckin’ brains circling the drain, it’s somehow poetic.  It’s easy to keep her from rusting, if you just take care of her.  Same as anything.  Wouldn’t _you_ agree?”

“Perhaps, perhaps.  But, we digress,” Typhon snapped, waving his hand impatiently.  His eyes shifted around the room before he caught himself, then looked back at Negan.  “My conditions?  Do you accept them?”

Negan looked at the man closely.  He was tall and large, surprisingly so, but not fat.  Sheer mass.  He was intimidating enough, that was for sure.  He could have strong muscle under the soft layers of fat, a force to be reckoned with.  But, he looked exerted from the recent activity, slightly winded although straining to hide it.  His cheeks had a pinkish hue, and he’d catch his breath slightly after speaking for long.  He was beginning to sweat under his suit, perspiration around his neck and down his smooth head.  The guards were easily spooked, and thin.  Not as thin as the cultists, but reaching the edge.  How had this man cast so much power over them?

Negan heard a soft _clank_ above his head, and fought the urge to look up.  Typhon’s eyes shifted slightly but snapped back Negan’s gaze with a small smile of bemusement.

The warehouse was silent as the two men stared each other down.  Negan sighed and scratched his beard.  “Well, your conditions seem reasonable enough at first sniff.  Get half your shit, even as a one-time deal, and getting you off my fuckin’ ass.  Giving you one piddley fuckin’ person.  Ain’t no skin off my teeth, right?”

Typhon held his smile, blinking politely.

“Problem is, Hoss, I already got most of your people.  They came rather willingly, I hear, with promises of food and water.  I’m fuckin’ grateful, actually.  I can always use more helping hands around the ol’ homestead.  They are so…broken, and easily grateful for any little scrap.  They’re a little fuckin’ scrawny, but they’ll fatten up under my guiding hand.  I keep _my people_ well fed.  And your people are now my people.”

Typhon’s smile tightened.  He tilted his head for a moment in consideration.  “Keep them.  I have all the people I require here.”

Negan’s eyes narrowed.  He occasionally heard a soft scuffling, the shift of pebbles underfoot or the readjusting of a leather strap.  Was that his people, or Typhon’s people hiding in the shadows?

“Goody fuckin’ gumdrops,”  Negan said.  “I’m afraid your last condition isn’t acceptable, though.  I can’t give up the builder, she’s far too valuable to me.”  He smiled politely.  “Unlike you, I understand the value of people.  Not just one person, but of many.”

“Is she valuable enough to risk the lives of your people?  My guards are well armed.”

“And so are mine.  As much as I’d love to engage in a dick measuring contest with you, I think we can save ourselves some trouble – mine’s bigger.  Much bigger.  Unfortunately, I’ll have to reject the terms of your freedom-”

Typhon sighed.  “You disappoint me, Negan.  These were not the terms of _my_ freedom, but for _yours._ ”  His eyes shone bright.  He raised his left hand, almost lazily, and twirled his finger in the air. 

 _Click, click, click_.

Negan glanced down and noticed several lasers aimed at his chest.  Above their heads in the walkway, several guards had lined up, their rifles aimed at Negan.

Typhon stepped closer, but still maintained an arm’s-length of distance.  His hollow black eyes held a fire now.  “Listen to my words, you disgusting cretin.  _I will take everything you hold dear and burn it to the ground_.  I will slaughter your men, rape your women, and torture your children.  They are a speck of dust in the universe of my world.  Expendable.  They’re all expendable.  That is your weakness.”

“I figured you were a piece of shit, Hoss,” Negan laughed, raising his hands in surrender.  “Unfortunately, you fail to see what you see as a fuckin’ weakness is strength.  People are where you get your strength, you dense motherfucker.  _That’s_ your fuckin’ weakness.  You want to rule over corpses and ash?  Fine, I’ll fuckin’ see to that.”

He whistled quickly, a high-pitched alarm, and chaos erupted.  Negan dropped to the ground and rolled as a shot whizzed past his ear.  Typhon’s guards above yelled, shots ran out wildly, hitting the walls and floor.  A sting brushed past Negan’s leg, and he saw a small bloom of blood on his calf, just a clip from a stray bullet.  Seven bodies plummeted to the ground practically simultaneously, hitting the cement floor with a sickening crunch.  Typhon’s guards from above, Negan noted with an exhale of relief.

Negan crouched quickly into the darkness, and ducked behind a stack of boxes,  Typhon’s guards began shooting wildly, but their aim was poor as they misjudged the kickback on their rifles.  Inexperienced shooters.  Typhon was screaming orders as his guards surrounded him in protection.  The Settlers returned fire, pushing the Order backwards, towards cover.

“Don’t let them get to the far wall!” Rick called out, somewhere above him.  Negan looked around, and saw the Order inching their way towards the freight elevator.  If they made it, it would be impossible to find them.  Was there an ambush below, too?  _Fuck._

The wall to the right of the maze burst open with a spraying of concrete, steel, and dust.  The impact caused everyone to drop to the ground, coughing in the clouds of dust.

Before anyone could react, the Big Bad Wolf careened through the hole.  The battering arm deployed, it had punched a gigantic hole in the wall of the warehouse.  As it decelerated, it plowed through part of the maze, metal on metal screaming and scraping.  Steel and wood went flying through the air, and a high-pitched shriek emanated from Typhon as he watched the maze shudder from the impact, then tumble like dominos.

“NO!”  He lunged forward, reaching towards the maze but two of guards held him back, shouting protests and pulling him backwards.  Gunfire erupted once more, and one of his guards heads exploded, courtesy of Negan’s Desert Eagle, spraying Typhon with brain and blood and gore. Another guard yanked his arm backwards, and he was ushered to the freight elevator with several remaining guards.  They pushed him through, sputtering and spitting blood out of his mouth.  The elevator door rattled closed, and slowly creaked downwards.

A caravan of vehicles careened through the opening created by the Big Bad Wolf, skidding abruptly to avoid large chunks of debris.  The vehicles fanned out and halted, Settlers pouring out.  The remaining Order guards were severely outnumbered, but they held fast behind their cover of storage boxes and debris until the elevator creaked down slowly out of sight. 

Rick and the others moved quickly on the walkway, gaining better angles on the huddling guards.  After a few moments and a few more dead guards, the last one surrendered, calling for help as he tried to stem blood spurting from a companion’s neck.

Negan refreshed the ammo in his rifle and checked the remaining bullets in his pistol.  He signaled for the Settlers, and they emerged from their cover, approaching the caravan of vehicles.  Carl popped out from behind cover and began rummaging through the dead cultists, tossing extra ammo to other Settlers. 

The hatch of the Big Bad Wolf creaked open, and Lucy’s head popped out.

“I heard some dumbass motherfucker is looking for me,” she said with a grin.

Negan couldn’t help but laugh.  _That’s my girl._

**_/ / / / /_ **

 

**AN:  Foiled again by the slippery Typhon!  But he can't have gone too far... Thank you all for the support!  For comments on the past few chapters, thank you ElektraWitch, H, Cecelia, TessaDragneel, Miauwow, Ceecee, and lgbtnegan!**


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

Lucy climbed out of the Big Bad Wolf, squinting at the chaos surrounding her.  It was cloudy and hard to see, flashlight beams cut through the clouds of dust and debris and gave the whole warehouse an eerie look. Settlers were still coughing from the concrete dust as they picked through the debris to locate any corpses.  No surprises for later.  Bodies littered the floor, some twitching and making strangled noises as they began to turn.  Negan’s men swept through, dispatching the undead and looting the bodies for spare ammo or better weapons. 

Lucy patted the front end of the Big Bad Wolf and silently thanked the gigantic vehicle for a safe arrival.  Her neck and back were starting to tingle a bit, and her fingers felt a bit numb.  The impact of slamming against a concrete wall at high speed likely gave her a whopping case of whiplash, but she wouldn’t feel it- truly feel it, until the next day or two.

“Worth it,” she muttered, scanning the warehouse through the fog of dust.  It was starting to settle, slowly, but it was difficult to see.  A whistle sliced through the night like a knife, and Lucy exhaled.  Negan was alive, or at least alive enough to whistle.

Rick was the first to make his way towards the caravan of cars that had burst through the warehouse like a pack of wolves.  “Everyone okay?”  he asked, in between coughs. 

“I figured I’d make it easier for that creep to find me, but I guess he ran like the chickenshit he is.”  She glanced over at the ruined maze, destroyed by the explosive entrance.  “What the- you know what, I don’t even care.  Whatever the hell he was doing, it was a poor imitation, anyways.”

Lucy adjusted her Kevlar vest.  It was heavy and dug into her armpits, but she hadn’t had much time to figure out how to readjust it.  Rick chuckled and showed her how to fix it, loosening a strap here and there.

Through the mist, a tall shadow drew near.  Negan emerged, grinning ear-to-ear.  His hair was salted with dust, but his eyes sparkled bright in the headlights of the caravan.  “That was COOL as SHIT!  How’d my badass vehicle hold up?  And the badass lady driver?”

Lucy winced and rubbed her shoulder.  “Better than expected.  Don’t think she could handle another cement wall, but I think structurally holding up.  Stupid- I didn’t think about the impact of our fleshy bodies in the car.  There’s gonna be hell to pay tomorrow, if I live to see another day.”

“You’ll be fine, it’s Typhon who should be worried about tomorrow,” Rick said through gritted teeth.

 “Who gets dibs on the creep?”  Carl hollered as he clamored out of the Big Bad Wolf.  “Owch.  Good thing I got this helmet on, I got slammed pretty good back there.” 

 Rick’s eyes grew wide and he jogged up to his son, inspecting him briefly before pulling him into a fierce hug.  “You weren’t supposed to be in that damn thing!  Your job was to keep watch, stay safe.  Make sure the others were safe, too.”

Carl looked down at his boots.  “Couldn’t wait any longer.  There was so much gunfire, it was hard to tell who was winning from back there.  You know I’m more useful here than most of these guys, anyways.”   A nearby Savior overheard and shot Carl a withering look, grumbling about cocky teenagers.  Negan couldn’t help but laugh at the Savior, at Rick’s scowling face.  Lucy also couldn’t help joining in- Negan’s soft spot definitely included Carl, no doubt about it. 

Carl turned to Negan and walked over with the solemnity of a monk.  The tips of his ears flushed a brilliant pink.  “Here.  Thought you’d need her.” 

He handed over Lucille, hidden behind his back until just now.  Had he not had adrenaline coursing through his veins, Lucy guessed that Negan might have shed a tear of happiness.  He cried out in surprise, slapped Carl’s back and pulled him in for a side hug.  “You’re a crazy fuckin’ kid, but you’re a good kid.   Ja-hee-suz, that lunatic was right!  I felt fuckin’ itchy as hell without this little lady here.” 

Once Lucille was back in his hands, Negan’s demeanor seemed to change instantaneously.  He was more focused, more alert at the task at hand.  He motioned to Rick and they all began walking towards the elevator.  “The longer we wait out here, holding our dicks, the more he-or they- can prepare.  That motherfucker took a handful of guards with him, but what fuckin’ floor did they go to?  We don’t have time to sweep every goddamn floor.”  He scratched his beard, little puffs of dust escaping with each touch.  “We’ll need a fuckin’ system.”

Rick peered down the elevator shaft.  The freight elevator hadn’t been enclosed like a typical elevator- more like the kind found in mines.  A cage, essentially.  Functional and industrial.

They all stood around for a minute.  Finally, Lucy broke the silence.  “Let’s call the elevator.  It’s a freight elevator, so it’ll be slow as hell but maybe we can get a clue on where they went to-“

_BOOM!_

Before she could finish, an explosion shook the earth.  Several people fell to their knees, and someone screamed.  Negan grabbed Lucy, Rick grabbed Carl and they all slammed to the ground behind a pile of the maze. The elevator shaft shuddered, then shot out a firey heat, dust and debris.  The rod that held the pulley system of the elevator jerked downward with a groan, twisting the metal with a scraping shriek.  It bowed and bent under strain, then finally snapped with a loud _CRACK!_

Lucy grabbed her head, disoriented from the loud ringing in her ears and white splotches dancing before her eyes.  They all were coughing and sputtering, slapping each other’s backs and untwisting themselves from one another.  Negan glanced at Lucy and gave her a once-over, and appeared satisfied.  Lucy saw his lips moving, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying.  After a second, her hearing gradually returned, like someone was turning up the volume on the radio.  A ferocious ringing was still there though, piercing into her ear.

Negan was hollering for a headcount, but it was still too difficult to see, and no one was listening anyways. He caught Rick looking at him oddly, then dropped him arms from around Lucy, turning pink.

“They blew up the elevator,” Rick said.  “They just blew it up.”

“Shit.  SHIT!  What about the stairs?” Negan asked.  “That fuckin’ elevator in the hallway back there looked busted as hell, and I’m not putting my ass on that thing anyways.”

“Out in the hallway, there’s a stairwell leading down.  We still don’t know where they are, though.  If they rigged the elevator, they may do the same for the stairs.” Rick frowned.

“They’d have to keep something in tact so they can get out, right?” Carl asked.

Everyone stared at each other for a moment, unsure.

“Well, we can’t sit around with our thumbs up our asses,” Negan said.  “Might as well fuckin’ figure it out.”

“Hang on, let’s think about this for a minute,” Lucy said.  _Think, think, think._

“Usually in facilities like this, the bottom floors are usually utilities: water heater, generators, plumbing, stuff like that.  Then there’s probably some storage above that for a floor or two, but let’s be safe and just say one floor is storage.”  She paced around briefly, thinking.  “This is some weird facility though, a government one.  That many floors means they were doing something here: testing, experiments, research or something like that.  Maybe all of them.  How many floors did you say that elevator had?”

“Thirty or so,” Rick said quietly.

“Damn.  There may even be some sort of bomb shelter or something?  This looks like it was built during the Cold War.  So we can skip the bottom few floors and start around floor 27 or 26, maybe?”

“What if they’ve got tunnels or something, like the sewers under the factory?” Negan asked.

Lucy shook her head.  “I don’t think so- the factory was hooked up to the county water and sewage, they needed sewer access.  This place is on its own grid.  If there’s an escape tunnel, we are already too late and it doesn’t really matter.  But facilities like this don’t typically have any sort of tunnels or outside entrances.  It’s a security risk, you know?  Don’t want rednecks hunting in the woods to stumble across the entrance.  This is more of a locked-down facility to hunker down in, I think.”

The others listened carefully.  When Lucy finished, Negan and Rick stepped aside, speaking in hushed tones.  Lucy beamed internally, remembering how irritated Negan would get even speaking around Rick, and how he had treated him when she tagged along to Alexandria.  She was fairly sure he had even held back a little, her presence tempering his usual menacing behavior.  Now, he turned to Rick not to bark orders, but to confer, weigh their options.  Colleagues in chaos.  It wasn’t about who was in charge right now, but how best to handle the current situation.  Together.

Negan whistled, and signaled for all of the settlers to gather around.

“Alright, I need a group up top, here on the surface.”  Morgan stepped forward with his team, along with Arat and her team.  “Good, you each take two Settlers apiece.  Each group stay fuckin’ alert.  Someone watch the stairwell, the others have the cars at the ready.  I don’t know if we’ll find more people down here that need evacuating.”  The group nodded, and they began to confer with one another a distance away, determining what exits who would cover.  Alexandrians and Saviors, cooperating amicably.

Negan turned to Carl, making eye contact quickly with Rick.  “Carl, you post up on the roof with three of my men for your team.  We’ve caused a lot of noise and there’s bound to be a herd nearby.  I’ll need eyes and ears up there.  We still have a few more hours of night, and it’s going to be a long one.”

Carl looked disappointed at first, being relegated away from the action.  But when he was delegated his own team, his back straightened and his chest puffed out.  Negan put his hand on his shoulder. “I need a reliable fuckin’ man up there in a crisis.  If shit hits the fan down there, we need someone to get our people to safety.  Remember, eyes and ears, Carl.” 

Carl nodded and reached for his gun, tucked safely in it’s holster.  Negan selected three Saviors to post with Carl.  They looked less than thrilled to be led by a teenager, and Negan could read it on their face.

“And Carl, if anyone gives you shit?”  Negan smiled at the Saviors.  “Shoot ‘em.”

Carl smiled.  “Yes, sir.”

Lucy guessed there were about twenty-five or so Settlers left, a decent amount compared to the handful of guards Typhon had fled with.  But, she suspected with dread, more traps awaited.  Their numbers would dwindle still.  Negan put a hand on Rick’s shoulder and smiled.  “Rick, why don’t you fuckin’ elaborate on the plan for the stairwell?”

Rick nodded and licked his lips.  His voice was ragged from all the dust, and they were all tired, sore, aching.  “We go down in teams of four to five.  One person on point leads their team, and one person is the messenger.  Stay a few floors away from one another so we can be alert of any trouble.  Messenger: s _tay in communication._   If the first group indicates ‘clear,’ pass it along to the group behind.  Half of us’ll sweep the floor, other half will stay in the stairwell listening for trouble.  We just need to do a broad sweep first, don’t go lootin’ around in closets or opening drawers, unless something seems off.”

Teams were formed quickly, six in total, and preparation began.  Flashlights fastened to rifles, Kevlar adjusted, and additional ammo and back-up weapons were extracted from nearby bodies.  They began their journey to the stairwell when Negan grabbed Lucy’s arm, and signaled for Rick to go ahead.

“Hey.  I want you up with Carl on the roof,” he said.

Lucy furrowed her brow.  “What?  No way, I’m on your team.  I’m not going to wait around on the roof to hear about what happens.”

Negan sighed and rubbed his forehead.  “Lucy, it’s going to be fuckin’ dangerous down there.  We have no fuckin’ clue what’s going to go down.  It might be a goddamn trap.”  He grabbed her arm firmly, with purpose not malice.  “I’ll kill him, I promise.  But get up on the roof, that’s a fuckin’ order.  _Please._ ”  The last word stuck in his mouth, unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

 “I know you’re worried about-“

“Don’t fuckin’ placate me like a child.  I want you up on the roof, away from this shit.  You are a strong goddamn woman and I trust your abilities to survive, fuckin’ believe me on those counts.  But this is different.  Typhon wants _you_ specifically, for whatever goddamn nefarious purposes.”  Negan pulled her close, ignoring the hushed whispers from the groups in the hallway.   “I… can’t lose you down there.  If something goes wrong and that son-of-a-bitch gets a hold of you-“

Lucy sighed and wiped some dirt from Negan’s cheek.  She wished they’d had more time, before having to attack this place.  Time was so precious, these days.  “I’ll shoot myself in the head if it gets that far.  He won’t touch me.  Negan, if he knows I’m there among you, he’ll be more cautious.  He wants me alive.  Negan, _I’m going with you._ Fuck your order.”

Negan’s face grew red and he started to protest.  Lucy grabbed his wrist and yanked him towards her, planting a firm kiss on his lips.  She threw her arms around his neck, smelling sweat and fear and…him.  He stiffened at first, still mad at her defying his orders, still scared he might lose her.  But he relaxed into the kiss, pulled her in closer.  She pulled away, and turned so he couldn’t see her wipe away a stray tear.

 “Come on, boss,” she said, tugging on his wrist.  “We got a psycho to kill.”  Negan made a growling sound, a low rumble, but said nothing further.  Outmaneuvered, as usual.

The stairwell was pitch-black, the lights apparently deemed an unnecessary usage of power.  Rick’s team lead the way.  They were cautious, checking every landing for tripwires and traps.

Nothing.

It was quiet.  Eerie.  Their muted footsteps echoed in the enclosed space, sounding like thundering elephants to Lucy, contrasted with the relative silence otherwise.  It seemed like hours when they finally hit Floor 28.   Rick’s team lined up by the entrance door, guns at the ready.  Negan’s team was poised on the landing above, guns drawn at the door.  It was heavy industrial steel, and impossible to kick open without breaking a leg.  Instead, one of Rick’s team members bashed the knob until it popped off, clattering to the floor.  Why was everything they did so loud?  Their noises seemed to bounce off the walls and grow louder and louder with each echo.  It made Lucy nervous.

They opened the door into darkness and walked through.

Negan’s team held the stairs, hearts pounding as they listened intently.  Lucy’s arms ached, her back was starting to throb.  After a moment, Negan signaled and his team followed behind Ricks, disappearing into the blackness.  The next team filled their spot on the stair landing, poised and ready.

The floor was a storage floor, as Lucy guessed earlier.  The floor was a long series of hallways with rooms stashed with cleaning supplies, emergency rations, and electronic equipment.  The two teams converged into a large laundry room.

“Nothing here.  Let’s try the next floor.”

Three more times.  Floor 27 and 26 were more storage.  Floor 25 was some sort of IT floor, full of servers and snaking wires.  The computers were all dark except a few that still appeared to be humming away, fans whirring away.  They briefly considered pulling the power in case something there was important to Typhon, but decided not to.  Lucy argued didn’t know enough about the facility to know the purpose of pulling wires, best leave it alone for now.  Onto Floor 24, Floor 23, Floor 22.  They all blended together,  empty offices with scattered papers and abandoned coffee mugs.

They had to stop by Floor 20 to rest and pass along water.  Hours had passed.  It was hot in the stairwell, and their gear didn’t help.  They were all sweating and puffing with exhaustion, discouraged by the nothing after nothing on each floor.  So many to cover, so many still left to go.  Lucy had an awful creeping thought as they progressed slowly, painfully.  What if the freight elevator led to completely different area not accessible by the stairs?  What if Typhon was long gone by now, laughing at the thought of them sweeping thirty floors of nothing?

Floor 15 was a slightly more promising floor with three large laboratories.  Lucy wondered if her suggestion to start at the bottom had been entirely wrong.  What if Typhon was on the second floor, waiting for them to wear out?  They’d be toast by then, they were already vastly slowed down.  No one said anything about her plan, though.  They plodded on.

Floor 14 was different.  A different team did the initial sweep, allowing Rick’s team to hydrate and catch their breath.  The messenger came running back, wide-eyed.

“You’d better come see this,” was all he could say.  At first, the entrance housed a few offices along a short hallway, which ended with a formerly secure door that now lay on the ground, pried off by its hinges.  They walked through to another hallway, this one cement with dozens of steel doors with tiny hatch windows.

They were cells.  With people inside.  Screaming echoed down the hallway, and someone was repeatedly banging something against the door.  A voice screamed for their mother, another for mercy.

“Shit,” Negan said.  “We don’t have time to figure out what the fuck is happening here.  We’ll have to come back.”

Rick looked around, searching for another solution.  They needed all the manpower they could muster, and the people down here were securely locked up.  Deflated, he nodded agreement.

“We don’t know why they are locked up- they could be safe, but maybe not.  We’ll have to come back.”

They moved on, indistinguishable wails ushered them back into the stairwell.  Whatever mysteries lay in here would need to be investigated later.

/ / / / /

 

Floor 13.  Of fucking course it would be the goddamn unlucky number, not that Negan believed in that shit.  Negan’s team was on point this time.  They pushed through the door, Negan leading the way.  Lucy hung near the back, after much negotiation in angry whispers.  She was a huge pain in his ass, and he loved it.

They were in a wide, brightly lit hallway lined by rooms with large observation windows.  Double doors lay beyond.

 _A medical wing?_  Negan wondered.  It sure as shit smelled like a hospital- bleach, fear, and something vaguely medicinal.  They waited a moment, but the only sound was the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead.  He signaled forward, past a little security desk, but they didn’t make it beyond the first observation window.

In the stark white room locked behind security doors, three women were strapped to the beds.  They were blindfolded and coated in sweat, although they appeared to have no struggle left in them.  Red welts were visible under the leather straps.  They appeared too thin, too frail.

Sharp inhales and gasps from his team.  One woman covered her mouth to muffle an audible cry.  One of the restrained women shifted on the bed at the muffled footsteps.

_What the fuck?_

Negan made for the door, but hesitated.  They’d left god-knows-what downstairs, and couldn’t get distracted further.  What if this was a trap too?  Where the women walkers?  They looked alive, but blindfolded it was tough to tell, perhaps they were still fresh.  Or a diversion tactic, while they play rescuers then Typhon’s men could overwhelm them.  That fucker would use something like this as a tactic.

They pushed on forward, leaving the women behind.  Negan’s stomach was churning, a sour taste in his mouth.  Rage was pumping through his veins, but he had to stay in control.  Typhon was counting on rage, anger.  Most of the rooms were dark, impossible to see if they were empty or not.  One more room had the lights on, with a similar scene of constrained women strapped to cots.

Only this room, their bellies were swollen.

“Holy fuck,” someone whispered.

They were _pregnant._ Negan turned around to face his team, they were all wide-eyed and pale.  He couldn’t make eye contact with Lucy, he just…couldn’t.  He whistled for the messenger to go fetch the rest of the team.

Rick’s team was made their way down the stairs, following behind.  Negan put a Savior on point and walked towards Rick, but he had no words.  Rick started towards the door to unstrap the women, but Negan grabbed his wrist.

“I know,” was all he whispered.  “We can’t right now.”

Rick’s eyes were full of anger, hurt, confusion.  He clenched his jaw and nodded.  His fists were clenched so hard, Negan worried they’d never unclench.

A clattering noise followed by a hiss drew their attention further down the hallway.  Guns alert, they moved forward, sweeping the dark rooms with flashlights.  One room at the end of the hall had no window, a simple placard stating “Supplies.”  A Savior burst into the closet, and after a moment of muffled cries and a scuffle, he dragged out two men in shabby lab coats.

“Just some coward eggheads,” the Savior said with a sneer.

Rick marched up to the men, shoving one of them against the wall.  “Where is he?!”

The man squeaked and squirmed against Rick, glancing nervously at the other one.  Each one seemed to dare the other to speak first.  Negan stepped behind the other one and kicked the back of his knees, causing him to stumbled to the ground.  Rick’s “egghead” bit back a sob.

“We just did what we were told!  He’d kill us if we didn’t!”

Rick loomed over him, his eyes fierce.  He grabbed the man’s throat, tightening his grip slowly.  “I’ll ask you one last time: where is Typhon?”

The man made a strangled sound before gasping, “Next floor up, probably.  That’s his office and personal lab.”

Negan turned to the Savior that found them.  “Stay here.  Don’t fuckin’ move.  We’ll be back.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rick and Negan exchanged glances.  Rick gathered his team and led them down the stark hallway, while Negan and his group followed behind.  Negan slung Lucille over his shoulder casually.  Before he got to the stairwell, he called over his shoulder.

“If they cause you any trouble…kill ‘em.”

One floor to go.

/ / / / /

**AN:  Thank you Ceecee for the comment on the last chapter!  Typhon is a slippery one, but you can't screw over Negan and get away that easy :)  Hope you all are enjoying!**

**Take care lovelies, xoxoxo**


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

“You think they’re lyin’?” Rick whispered to Negan, away from the rest of the Settlers.  Despite their hushed tones, their voices seemed to fill the empty stairwell.

“Nah, we’re their best chances of getting out of this shithole.  Still, doesn’t hurt to be fuckin’ cautious.”

They perched in the stairwell, watching the door to Floor 12 cautiously.  Settlers took turns hydrating and sitting on the steps, while others stayed alert.  The air was heavy with all the body heat, a twinge of nervous sweat in the air.  Negan would scan for Lucy, locate her, then scan again as if she might disappear.  But every time she was still there, sharing a water bottle with Kevin, her lips set with a grim determination.

The door looked harmless enough, the same standard door as the other floors. An innocuous sign labeled “Offices 40-55” hung above it.  After a few moments of rest, Negan signaled.  Those who rested stood up wearily and took their positions. 

“They’re fuckin’ tired as shit,” Negan muttered to Rick.  “We good with this?”

Rick raked his fingers through his hair, which was drenched with sweat.  “I think we all gotta be.”

“Alright.  Now or fuckin’ never.”

They decided Rick’s group was to enter first with Negan’s group trailing close behind.  The other teams were scattered along the stairs behind them at varying levels, guns drawn.

Negan looked around.  They were all sweaty and tired, and he didn’t like it.  Exhaustion leads to mistakes, but hopefully they held the numbers.  Negan shoved Lucy out of his mind and labeled her as Anonymous Team Member.  It was easier that way.  Emotions in these situations get messy, and boy howdy, did he have some _emotions_ going on for her.

At Rick’s command, a dark-haired man cautiously tried the door handle.  Unlocked.  He opened the door and immediately stepped aside as Rick grabbed the handle and pulled it open, propping it with a doorstop.  They avoiding standing in the open doorway, instead leaping to the side to avoid being a sitting duck to any gunman positioned on the other side.  They were met with silence.

The hallway inside was pitch black – odd, since the other floors had at least minimal lighting.  Guns drawn, flashlights on.  The beams of light danced around the walls.  The teams pushed through the darkness slowly, scanning every inch for traps.

Nothing.

Negan had suspected a minefield of sorts: tripwires, booby traps, something to slow them down.  The lack of any defenses made him nervous.  Was this a trap itself?  False sense of security?  Or did Typhon truly never anticipate they’d come for him?

The hallway was dark and empty.  They swept the offices along the hallway, inching towards double doors at the end.

Nothing.

When they got to the double doors, Rick and Negan looked at one another.  Before they could figure out the next steps, Negan heard a whisper.

“Let me, boss.”

Negan turned towards the voice and was surprised to see Kevin as the source.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.  If I get shot or blown up, no big loss.”  He grinned.  “But throw a big fucking party for me, okay?”

Negan smiled and grabbed Kevin’s shoulder.

“You’re a good kid, Kev.”

“I know.”

Kevin moved towards the door slowly, crouching didn’t make it easy.  He inspected the doorframes, and found they opened inward- perfect for kicking down.  He grabbed something from his pocket, and turned back towards Negan and Rick.

“Stay back.”

He waited until they shuffled back a few feet, backs pressed up against the hallway walls.  Once he seemed satisfied, Kevin took a few deep inhales and readied his rifle awkwardly with one hand.  He turned back and grinned, giving Negan a quick salute with his hand full.

After two swift kicks from Kevin’s boots, the doors burst open to reveal a large, dimly-lit room.  Kevin immediately began yelling obscenities and hurled an object towards the far side, where they could barely make out the shadows of Typhon’s guards.  Kevin fired his rifle wildly, yelling obscenities as gunfire erupted.  He dived behind a nearby desk and covered his ears.  The double doors began to close slowly, blocking Negan’s view of the inside.  A distant cry indicated one of the bullets hit a target before-

_BOOM!_

The Settlers groaned as their ears rung, and the guards inside the room yelled in confusion.  Gunfire still erupted, but in shorter bursts.  The guards were confused, blinded, and partially deaf.

“Flashbang!” Rick yelled to Negan as they clutched their ears.  Kevin had thrown a concussive grenade towards the guards, meant to confuse and disable them.  Apparently, from the sounds inside the room, it was working.  Rick and Negan’s eye met, and they nodded.

Rick kicked the doors back open and they rushed forward into the room, dashing behind the nearest cover.

Negan landed hard next to Kevin, who was clutching his shoulder and occasionally returning fire from behind the desk.

“You hit?”  Negan returned fire on a guard crouched behind a barricade of filing cabinets.

“Yeah.  Not bad though.  Clean wound.”  Kevin winced.  He groaned and pressed his hand on a red-stained rag on his left shoulder.  He looked pale.  Negan whistled for a Medic Bag, and a nearby Settler tossed a small backpack his way.  He pulled out some gauze from the Medkit inside and replaced the rag with clean dressings and gauze.  Bullets _plinked_ off the metal desk, and one punched a hole in the wall near Negan, spraying plaster.

He squeezed Kevin’s good shoulder.  “Sit tight, chief.  You got brass fuckin’ balls for what you just pulled off.  We’ll be out of here fuckin’ soon.”

_I hope._

 “Thanks, boss.”  Kevin smiled weakly.  He coughed raggedly, then leaned over to spit out some bloody phlegm.  “Hey.  If I don’t make it…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“No, sir.  I mean ‘if.’  If anything happens, give Becca…give her pick of any of my stuff.  She’s in the kitchen.  Works there, I mean.  It’s not much, but she deserves it.”

Negan didn’t know who the fuck Becca was, and felt a pang of guilt in his belly.  He realized he could recall very little personal details about Kevin.  Kevin, who appeared a coward at first glance, but was a lion underneath.  He played the part of sacrificial lamb, to ensure the rest of the group made it in safely.

“Alright, son.  But you can tell her your fuckin’ self when we get you out of here.  Matter of fact, if you two ain’t shacking up pretty soon, I’m relegating you to kitchen duty.”

Kevin grimaced a half-smile.  “Okay, boss.  Okay.”  He took a deep, rattling breath. 

Lucy appeared at his side and began rummaging through the Medkit wordlessly.  She peeled back the fresh bandage, ignoring Negan’s protests. In her hand, she had a plain brown packet that Negan had shoved aside, unsure of its purpose.  She poured a noxious powder on Kevin’s wound and it began to sizzle and foam as it form a seal and coated the wound to cut off the bleeding.

Kevin banged his head against the steel desk and swore profusely, but it was barely heard over the din of gunfire.

Before either of them asked, Lucy said, “Blood clotting crystals.  Used in the military for wounds.  Eugene found some unlabeled packets and figured out what they were.”

Negan shifted his weight, still crouched behind the desk and scanned the room as best he could.  Several guards were left exchanging fire and screaming directions into their walkie-talkies.  He smiled at the chaos.  Settlers in the hallway behind were setting up provide some additional back-up when screams echoed down the hallway from the stairwell.

A hush grew over the Settlers in the hallway as a metal canister clattered down the hallway.  Daryl leapt up, grabbed the grenade and lobbed it into a broken window of an empty office nearby.

_BANG!_

The office exploded in a chaos of metal, wood, and drywall.  The metal door blasted off it’s hinges and slammed into Daryl, pinning him against the wall.  He wasn’t moving.  The stairwell erupted into the shouts and rounds fired as the rear team was attacked- from above or below in the stairwell, Negan couldn’t say.  He gritted his teeth so hard he felt they might crack.

An unhuman yell of rage rose above the gunfire and bullets.  Rick charged forward towards the guards, wild-eyed and unstoppable.  Negan couldn’t help but think of a documentary on African animals.  Rick was a charging rhino bull- fearless and deadly. 

Rick deftly made short work of the Typhon’s remaining soldiers, caught off-guard by the bold, rage-filled man. 

 _POP._  Headshot.

 _POP._  Headshot.

The Settlers scrambled to provide Rick cover as he hunted the remaining guards out from behind their cover.  Only two were left, hiding behind a pile of sandbags.  Sand trickled out in small piles, leaking from bullet piercings.

One of the guards began firing from cover as the other one dashed towards a tiny corner office full of panels and shattered televisions, some sort of security posting.  Rick’s bullet clipped the man’s leg and he stumbled, but slammed behind the flimsy wall, hidden from view.  Rick made an animalistic sound of frustration and rooted out the guard providing cover. 

Rick’s rifle clicked.  Empty.  Shit- in the chaos he had make a rookie mistake and hadn’t counted his shots.  The guard smirked and raised his handgun to Rick, level with those steely eyes.  Before he could pull the trigger, the guard’s jaw exploded and splattered blood, teeth, and bone over Rick and the wall behind him.

Rick turned his head.  He met Negan’s eye, and nodded at his savior.  Negan blew fake smoke from the end of his gun and grinned.  He jerked his head towards the guard station.

“Reload, and let’s get that last fucker,” he muttered.

As Rick reloaded his full clip, Negan glanced around.  The stairway was still chaos, although it appeared now they seemed to concentrate their efforts above.  They were being attacked from upper floors of the stairwell, but it was impossible to determine how many yet.  The hallway was being cleared of debris as a few Settlers were attempting to extract Daryl from underneath.  Within the room, Negan’s team were alternating between patching up wounds on themselves or companions, or keeping watch on the lone vaulted doorway, locked and bolted closed, in the middle as if it might burst open at any minute.

Negan could barely spy Lucy’s head still over near Kevin, although he couldn’t see or hear what was going on.

He turned to Rick.  They needed to get that doorway open, Typhon was behind it.  Negan could practically smell the slimy bastard behind it, and he wanted to tell Rick.

Before he could get the words out, an alarm over the hallway door that they had kicked open began to chime.  A dull white light overhead clicked to red, and a hidden metal door slid closed with a solid slam, slicing a stray chair in half with a sickening snap.

Rick shouted and ran towards it, but it was too late.  The room illuminated only by the sole red light and a handful of flashlights.

Morgan ran over and began banging on the door.  The banging was returned on the other side by shouts and more banging.  Negan’s stomach dropped.  They were separated from the rest of the group – trapped in between Typhon and the attackers in the stairwell.

/ / / / /

In the din and the chaos, Lucy focused solely on keeping Kevin conscious.  She made a decent bind over his bullet wound and was searching for a board or anything flat to lay him on to get him out of there when the door slammed shut.

After a few moments of pounding, the room grew quiet.  Negan swore loudly.  Filthy words, awful curses that would make a nun faint.

“Shit, Luce, I don’t want to die here,” Kevin whimpered.  “Not like this.”

“Shut up,” Lucy hissed quietly.  “You aren’t going to die here.  You’re just in shock but we’ve patched you up.  Just sit for a moment.”

“They hit me in a few places but only got my shoulder good.  If you hadn’t given me your Kevlar vest on that weird floor below-“

Lucy shushed him.  Negan would _kill_ her- well, she’d get a strong talking to at least, if he knew she had slipped out of her Kevlar underneath her flannel shirt.  They hadn’t quite had enough to go around, and Kevin was put more in the line of fire anyways.  She debated whether to swap back, but moving Kevin was dicey at this point.  _Shit._

He shifted with a groan, and began reaching for the clips to the vest.  Lucy half-wondered if she had been speaking out loud, or if Kevin just read her thoughts.

Lucy slapped his hand away lightly and grabbed his face, and make him look at her.  “Kevin, stop moving and let me patch you up.  Think about that cute kitchen girl, she’ll totally be into this scar.  Saving the world, taking a bullet in the process.  She’ll go nuts!”

Kevin smiled weakly.  There was blood everywhere.  On her hands, covering Kevin, all over the floor.  All she could smell was the coppery metal of blood.  She wanted it out of her nose, to claw it out.  Deep breaths.

_Flashes of Kevin, eyeless in the woods.  Roots tightening around her ankles, trapped.  Nowhere to go-_

She jumped at a hand on her back – Negan.

“Wish we had Dr. Smartypants here- you think you can override these doors?  Where the fuck did they come from?”

Lucy took a deep breath and glanced down at Kevin’s pale face.  “I can try.  They must have been hidden in a panel or something, like a panic room.”

“That sneaky motherfucker.  I could feel a fuckin’ trap coming.  He wanted us cut off, a better advantage.  We gotta-“

A shot rang out and Lucy clamped her hands to her ears too late.  Flashlights shone wildly around the room until they found Rick, standing over the body of the last guard.  He flicked his safety on, then turned to speak to the remaining Settlers.

“Line up along this wall, we need a head count and ammo count.”

After a few chaotic moments, Rick had determined they had eleven in the room, not including Kevin.  Occasional banging on the door indicated the group outside was trying to break in, sometimes shifting to large bangs as objects were attempted as a battering ram.  Lucy dashed to the little guard room, slipping on a slick pool of blood from the dead guard.  Almost instantly, her heart sunk-  the monitors were destroyed, both from bullets and apparently from the guard smashing them during the gunfight.  Any semblance of a command panel was a tangle of wires, the face had been prized off and tossed aside.

She poked her head out to expectant faces.  “It doesn’t look good – I’m not an electrician.  I don’t think this is salvageable, at least, not to me.  But I can try.”

Rick nodded grimly.  “That’s all we ask.”  He glanced at Negan.  A loud _BANG_ from the others outside the door interrupted the uncomfortable silence.

“Door opens outwards, assholes,” Negan muttered.  It didn’t, it had just been a solid mass of steel that slid straight out of the wall, but he just had to break the tension in the room.  No one laughed.

Lucy went back inside the guard room and tried to make sense of the wired mess – it wasn’t just door controls but security cameras, lights, perhaps air circulation.  She poked around for the panel cover in nearby debris, and found it.  Perhaps it could give some clue to which wires might help them get the hell out.

“We could try on this side to leverage it open,” Morgan said, running his fingers around the doorframe.  “Steel though.  Looks like a son-of-a-bitch to try.  The steel slides deep into the wall, I don’t know if we could find something strong enough to use.”

Rick shifted on his feet and sighed.  “Why don’t you and one other work on the door, see if we can pry it open.  Don’t waste too much energy, though.  Negan, let’s look at this door at the end.  Typhon has got to be behind it, we can at least go try to kill the bastard while we’re stuck.”

Negan smiled and clapped Rick on the shoulder, pulling him in like they were old buddies.  “Atta boy, Rick.  It’s your can-fuckin’-do attitude that just…tickles my balls!”  His voice, usually gravelly and strong, was hoarse and thin.  He was just as exhausted as everyone else, but trying desperately not to show it.

Lucy bit back a smile and continued to poke around.  The wires were a mess.  They could electrocute her if she wasn’t careful.  She twisted the wiring this way and that, looking at the panel for clues as the hammering continued now on both doors.  It was enough to give her a migraine, but she persisted through.

_Come on, come on.  They’re counting on you!_

Two little light blue wires appeared to be disconnected, so she shrugged and carefully twisted them together, using a little rubber tool she’d found in the desk drawer.  Sparks flew, and she heard the heavy click of a door.

She glanced behind her and noted with dismay it wasn’t the outer door- the little blue wires had unlocked the inner door.  Into where Typhon lurked, into the depths of his sanctum.

Rick whistled and the Settlers lined up cautiously, providing cover from behind various corners and tables.

Somewhere in the room, or everywhere in the room by the sound of it, a voice called out.

“Well, well, well.  Aren’t you all… _resourceful?_ ”

He sounded bored, as if he had been waiting for them for hours.  Well, he likely had been.

“Typhon!” Lucy whispered under her breath.  She made her way towards the wall near the inner door, hiding around the frame next to Negan.  She heard Negan muttering under his breath, but could only make out swearing.

The voice called out once more.  “You’ve unlocked the door…why don’t you all come in for a nice, long talk?  We’ve much to discuss.”

Negan snorted.  “Yeah.  ‘Come into my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly,” he said in a low voice.

Rick flicked the safety off his rifle.  “We’re the spider, he’s the fly,” he said reassuringly.

Lucy wasn’t so convinced.

 

**/ / / / /**

**AN:   Thank you to CeeCee, gingersnaps11, and MarinofNohr for the comments!**


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